The Vitruvian Man
by manic-intent
Summary: Ezio x Leonardo. Started as a story fix when I couldn't hug Leonardo in time. Assassin's Creed II. Undergoing heavy language editing. No new updates yet, sorry.
1. The Vitruvian Man

[A/N: Was drinking Ribena, did not hug Leonardo. I'm sorry Leonardo! Also, the half-English half-Italian thing in the game did seem a bit jarring (though the voice acting was hot), but Italian is so beautiful, so I will keep a little half-Italian half-'English' in this fic too.

Also, I will not be following Leonardo's real timeline. It seems he actually left for Milan in 1482, while in the game he follows Ezio to Venezia.

For Nescienx and other AC fangirls.]

"The Medici made me and the Medici destroyed me" – Leonardo da Vinci

The Vitruvian Man

I

Leonardo was just in time to drag the curtain over the bodies in his storeroom and drop a canvas sheet over his more recent, esoteric sketches when the impatient knocks at his door segued into the self-assured creak of its hinges.

"Leonardo da Vinci." Lady Maria Auditore sounded amused, when he whirled around.

He managed pleasantries, relieved that it hadn't been one of his more... unforgiving patrons, scooping up the completed commissions and placing them carefully in a box, glad that he'd remembered this morning in between sketching a bird's wing and designing a formula for underwater ink to put the scrolls within reach and within sight.

It was only when he carried the box to his latest patron that Leonardo had a good look at the youth standing behind her. Tall, lithe and broad-shouldered, his hair an unruly shock of dark silky waves, his dark eyes sharp and playful, skin evenly tanned from hours baked in the Firenze sun, Ezio Auditore was quite possibly the most _handsome_ man Leonardo had ever seen; and he has long had the pleasure of Medici patronage and access to the courtiers and philosophers and painted youths entertained in the House of Medici.

Lorenzo de' Medici had introduced the Auditore family to him. Right now, unabashedly staring, Leonardo thanked God for the Medici.

He swallowed, as Ezio took the box from him with easy strength, looking bored, blithely unaware of how Leonardo's fingers itched suddenly for a brush, a pencil, inks and papers. Lady Auditore sensed her son's impatience, the pleasantries swept short, and they leave, leave Leonardo staring after them as the door closed, with his mouth dry and parted like a peasant child and his fingernails curling tightly into his palms.

Leonardo cast an eye behind him to the yet unfinished Adoration of the Magi, sighed, and took to his desk, putting quill to ink and drawing a sheet of paper to himself.

The treatise on violent, sudden emotion he burned, later, deeper into the night, but the sketch he could not bear to crumple. Pencils shaded and shaped the Auditore youth with painful precision onto paper, his dark eyes bright and piercing, his smile inviting, here Leonardo's 'gift' turned both blessing and curse.

Leonardo considered giving it to Lady Auditore in her next visit, glanced back at the fire, and sighed again, tying it instead into a tight scroll and hiding it in the pile of his journals. Women tended to be perceptive, particularly where their sons were involved, and Leonardo was quick to understand social restrictions. He had long learned his lesson, in Firenze, and it had been a harsh one.

II

Ezio fell into an exhausted slumber while Leonardo worked on the hidden blade mechanism, and not even the remarkable intricacy of the design managed to hold his full attention. Guiltily, Leonardo set the blade aside and took up quill and paper, sketching.

Ezio looked vulnerable now where he had not at the door, murder in his eyes and betrayal writ in the tension of his shoulders. The youth Leonardo had so admired was gone, murdered along with his brothers at the gallows, something more primal left in its wake, a newborn hunter mewling for its first kill. And now he would give it fangs.

Leonardo was at heart and in practice a pacifist, respecting all life and disdaining meat at his table, and yet for a man he did not know well, he was about to provide a silent instrument of death.

He put fists at his head, bowing it for a long, pained breath, and began to sketch long, dark lashes, fluttering in sleep. Leonardo dared not linger on this work, managing only the barest of frames before tucking the scroll away in a drawer to be finished later in privacy, returning his attention to the blade.

Later he cannot help pulling a prank on Ezio, serious, brash Ezio, as though he could ever put a blade to those perfect, nimble fingers.

III

Since the blade, every single one of Ezio's visits had been due to encrypted pages from what the assassin called 'the Codex'. Leonardo supposed that he could expect little different – though Ezio called him friend, it was not like they were truly close, confidantes, no matter how much he might wish it otherwise.

Inviting an embrace had been foolishness born of euphoria from the hectic past week, what with the insane journey through the mountains and then the ship to Venezia, sharing a cabin with Ezio and pretending to be interested in politics when all he could think of was how poorly the other scrolls in his bags under the bed hid all eleven of his sketches of his friend.

He'd asked, a little shyly, if he could sketch Ezio, midway, when the coast was a dark line drawn jagged over the calm ways, and his friend had laughed, thinking it a joke. Leonardo hadn't dared bring it up since.

He'd made Ezio uncomfortable after all, Leonardo had surmised. Small wonder the man had stared askance at him when he had put his arms wide. Perhaps he should apologize. Leonardo had no idea where Ezio might be at any given time, but the entire city knew that the thieves' guild had acquired a powerful, silent ally, and-

"Leonardo."

"Ezio! So good to see you." Leonardo said as the door opened silently, pleasure and surprise both. "I was just thinking of you. How can I be of service?"

The hunter had matured: Ezio walked with a deadly, quiet grace, his hands a murderer's hands a multitude over, and his eyes were hard now, dark and cold. Beautiful in the way a hawk was beautiful, all talons and claws. Leonardo's fingers itched, but he was used to _that_, now. Two sketches had become three, then a multitude of scrolls stored neatly in a locked chest under Leonardo's bed, his sole guilty pleasure in his celibacy, his one mistress to his pursuit of knowledge.

"And then the devil appears?" Ezio quipped, amused. Cool confidence now, where brash youth had once been. "Why, what about? Is there something I can do for you, _amico_?"

"No, no. No, it is nothing," Leonardo's courage ebbed quickly under the steady stare. "I, ah, is it another page?"

"Actually I was here to apologize."

"Apologize? About what?" Leonardo did not recall the assassin giving offense recently, if ever. Ezio was brusque in their meetings and always business, but it was not as though Leonardo could not understand that the assassin was moving in far more important circles than he.

"That day? The first day in Venezia?" Ezio prompted, when Leonardo continued to look blank. "You seemed hurt."

"The first day of Venezia?" Leonardo tried recalling. "I was not injured. You made sure of that by diverting the bandits' attentions."

Ezio muttered something under his breath, and took two long strides into Leonardo's personal space before he could blink, all but crushing him into a hug. Dimly, Leonardo was aware that he had stopped breathing: Ezio was so _warm_, his metal armor jutting painfully into his ribs and elbows, the silver buckle at his belt into his belly, and awkwardly, Leonardo returned the embrace, his fingers trembling. Ezio smelled of leather, metal and sunshine.

"There." Ezio drew back, all too quickly and looking satisfied, clapping him on the shoulder with his ungloved palm. "Now we are even."

"I… I… what… this…"

The assassin frowned, concerned. "Leonardo?"

He took a deep breath, trying to kick his much vaunted brain into some form of intelligent speech. "Er. Thank you, Ezio." God _damn_ it.

"You are very important to me," Ezio continued earnestly, "I think of you as my best and most trusted friend. I do not want you to think otherwise. That day, I was just a little tired. Distracted."

Leonardo was quite sure now that he was dreaming. He had thought... "Ezio, have you been drinking?"

"No, no. I do not drink any longer. It dulls the senses," Ezio grimaced. "Not that Antonio's place lacks for liquor, what with all that drunken noise and revelry every night."

"Is that where you stay? The thieves' guild?" Leonardo felt mildly appalled.

"When I am in Venezia, yes." The assassin shrugged, his grin quick and mischievous. "I am an assassin, Leonardo. A den of thieves, a house of whores, such places are full of my ilk."

"You can stay here," The words left his mouth before he could think. "I, ah, I mean, I have rooms disused upstairs. You can access one through the balcony, even. It will be much quieter than the other places."

"Thank you, Leonardo," Ezio said, looking startled. "But it will be dangerous for you. I am a wanted man."

"I think we are long past denying our association," Leonardo said dryly, with a quick glance at Ezio's wrists. "And I have long been known as a friend of your family."

"I remember," Ezio said soberly, his eyes narrowing briefly. The assassin's first kill with the hidden blade, Leonardo recalled, had been in his defense. "Has it troubled you since?"

"No. Not after the removal of the Pazzi. Lorenzo de' Medici ensured that. There's a spare bed upstairs. Not much in the way of any other furniture, unfortunately."

"Thank you, Leonardo." As responses came, that was all too disappointingly neutral.

IV

A rattling sound and a quiet step in the floor above startled Leonardo out of his painstaking drafting of a whimsical set of engineering plans for mechanical carriages. Since the Medici had solidified their grasp on Firenze, he had not had any nocturnal burglaries, but then, Leonardo was all too clear that he was no longer in Firenze. Shakily, he took the nearest weapon he could find – a butcher's knife – and crept up the stair.

He flinched when there was a shout, then a scuffle, the wet sounds of a blade meeting flesh, then loud swearing, a woman's voice, filthy enough that Leonardo blushed. Quickly, he ascended the stair, circling towards the spare room, afraid of what he would find.

A slim woman with short, black hair and a delicate chin stood planted beside the window, hands on her hips, fingers clasped over the hilt of a blade that still dripped blood onto the floorboards. She wore mannish clothes, a rough shirt buttoned whorishly low over her cleavage, and equally unseemly short, fitting breeches, with a scarf around her slender neck that dipped into the valley of her breasts.

"… _bastardo_… ah, you. Well, help me get rid of this," the woman gestured impatiently at the body at her feet. A man lay dead, sprawled on the floorboard, a gaping wound in his neck. "Courtesy from the Barbarigos, I think. _Dio mio_, must you stand there gaping like a fish? Help me carry him!"

Leonardo found himself half-dragging, half-carrying the body down to the dissection room, enduring muttered imprecations and the occasional snide comment about his strength and stamina the whole interminable journey, the woman only seeming to take a breath when he offered her a basin of water and a cloth, later, to wash her hands.

She looked around his workshop sharply, her eyes lingering on the unfinished paintings, sweeping over the sketches and the books, and snorted derisively. "_You_ are _his_ closest friend?"

"It seems so." Leonardo didn't need to ask for clarification, and besides, sometimes the fact of the matter was surprising even to himself. "What just happened there?"

"The whole of Italia thinks the world of your intelligence and you ask me that?"

"Why would the Barbarigos want to kill me?" He hazarded a guess, shaken. "Ah… and er, thank you, milady."

"I have never been a 'milady', thank you _so _kindly, good _sir_," the woman said, her tone mocking, though her narrowed eyes softened. "My name is Rosa. You are fortunate that I was passing by."

"Yes, I owe you my life. If there is anything I can do for you in return…"

"Lock your windows at night and your doors at all times," Rosa said, though not unkindly. "You do not seem to be a bad sort, just a stupid one, keeping such friends as you do and living all alone with no guard. I will have Antonio post a watch on your place."

"Er… thank you?"

"We look after our own," Rosa inclined her head. "And you are important to _him_." Full lips quirked into a grin of sly mischief. "I think I will tell him that you were nearly killed today. Perhaps he will remember that when the _cretino _next does something loud and stupid."

V

Leonardo returned from a meeting with philosophers in the Piazza San Marco to find Ezio waiting for him in his workshop. "How did you get in?"

"I picked the lock," Ezio admitted, looking a little embarrassed. "Rosa showed me how to pick locks some time ago."

"Ah… it is good to see you," Leonardo said, deciding to move past why his best friend had broken into his house. "Would you like some tea?"

"You are not injured at all?" At Leonardo's blink, Ezio added, irritably, "From when those _bastardi_ from Barbarigo tried to kill you. Rosa told me-"

"There was _one_ guard, and Rosa killed him before anything happened," Leonardo said quickly. "No injuries at all. You need not have worried."

"Still, if she had not been there…" Ezio was pacing, a sure sign that his volatile temper had been simmering for some time.

"Antonio has posted a guard. He came by personally to discuss it with me." Antonio had been an interesting man: educated, incisive, with a quick mind that enjoyed debate. Leonardo had come away from the long conversation – one that now took place weekly – with the impression that Antonio's usual associates failed to provide him with an (any) intellectual stimulation that he seemingly craved.

"The guard will be useless if the Barbarigo make a serious attempt on your life. You should go back to Firenze. Lorenzo can protect you. Or Monteriggioni. My uncle will be happy to do so. Monteriggioni may even be safer. No stranger enters it undetected."

"I like Venezia," Leonardo shook his head. "And I cannot hide forever in Firenze. Some day I hope to live in Milan. I cannot always rely on another."

"You could die here," Ezio snapped, clearly frustrated. "I insist that you leave. Look at how easily I broke in. Anyone could do it. Distract the guard and send another to lie here, in wait."

"And were I to leave? You have shown me yourself that there is no such thing as an impenetrable stronghold. I will stay."

"If you _must_ stay, then you will move into Antonio's palazzo."

"I like my workshop," Leonardo retorted, balling his fists, struggling to hold his patience against Ezio's draconian will, "And you yourself have told me that Antonio's guild is a raucous place. I need quiet to concentrate, to _create_."

"Then I am moving in here," Ezio countered, folding his arms. "Quietly. No one will know. But if the Barbarigo send another after you again, I will be there." When Leonardo said nothing, shocked, Ezio growled, "No more arguments. In the meantime I will work with Antonio to remove the rest of the Barbarigo _bastardi_ from Venezia."

"You are always welcome here, Ezio," Leonardo said, cautiously, unable to believe his good fortune. Warmth was infusing his cheeks and twisting at his heart, and it was all he could do to stand still and pretend – _pretend_ – that nothing momentous had happened.

"I have lost too much to the Borgia Maestro and his allies," Ezio said gruffly, thankfully oblivious to how easily he had just overturned his best friend's world. "I will _not_ lose you too."

VI

Considering that it felt as though he had waited years for this, Ezio moving into the spare room above his workshop turned out to be somewhat less life-changing than Leonardo had originally thought. Ezio was a busy man, often away from Venezia altogether on contracts from Lorenzo, and even when he _was_ in Venezia he was usually missing. In his absence, Antonio seemed to visit more often, if not Antonio then Sister Teodora or Rosa.

It was clear that he was being more tightly guarded, but Leonardo did not really enjoy having such a constant stream of demanding (particularly Rosa) visitors. It interrupted his already dubious concentration and shaky schedule. However, his strenuous protests went unheeded, and Leonardo grudgingly adjusted his work schedule along with his social arrangements accordingly.

When Ezio _was_ there, however, the assassin spent most of his time in a shallow sleep, either slumped on a chair in the workshop or curled up on the spare bed. When he was awake, it was usually because Leonardo was performing rudimentary first aid.

Today it seemed that Ezio had broken an arm via having slipped from a roof while in pursuit of a mark. Dosed on a light tincture of laudanum against the pain as Leonardo washed and set his arm, Ezio's speech was rambling and slurred in his description of how he had completed his mission anyway against all odds, though Leonardo noted that the assassin's feet were still flat-footed on the floorboards, and that he had seated himself in a way that he could track the stairwell and the door with his peripheral vision.

"A doctor could probably do this more neatly," Leonardo concluded, as he bound and splint the arm.

"I do not need neat," Ezio slouched back in the chair, yawning, stripped to his undershirt, breeches and one of his bladed bracers. "And you are as good as any of the doctors in Venezia."

"Hardly," Leonardo set himself to clearing up the medical kit on his worktable, flattered nonetheless.

"I do not know how you have managed it, but you can paint anything, you can build anything, you can perform medicine, argue philosophy, sing, play the lyre, write poetry… _anything_," Ezio continued, his words interspersed by heavy yawns. "You are rich, connected to the Medici, intelligent and comely. It is a wonder that you are not married, _amico_. I have never even seen you with a woman."

"You are not married either, Ezio," Leonardo deflected the dangerous implication there carefully, and turned around to slot the kit back onto the shelves, searching for an available space and hoping that he had done so in time to hide his flush.

"I am an assassin," Ezio said sleepily, as though it explained everything.

"Your father was married. The author of the scrolls you have brought me, he too, twice, I believe."

"It is different. I am an outlaw. My father worked in secret; everyone who knew him thought that he was a banker. The author, Altaïr, he lived in a community of assassins. No doubt his wives were also assassins."

"There is Monteriggioni."

"You are changing the subject," Ezio pointed out, irritable. "You are famous, well-known, you make the rounds of many Courts, many social circles. If you were a woman I would already have married you."

Leonardo dropped the kit. As he bent to pick it up, trying to think of an appropriate response, _any _response, Ezio began to laugh, apparently at his own joke, heartily at first, then chuckling drowsily into slumber as the laudanum took effect.

"Ezio?" Leonardo asked cautiously, setting the kit down on the shelf and sidling over to prod his friend on the wrist. When Ezio only muttered in his sleep and shifted gently, Leonardo sighed, looking around for Ezio's cape and draping the assassin in it, allowing his fingers to linger briefly over broad shoulders. "I am not married because of you, _amore mio_. Nor will I ever be."

V

Rosa's most annoying habit, in Leonardo's opinion, and one that he tolerated with the best of his patience, was her tendency to explore his workshop each time she was tasked with guard duty, commenting loudly on anything new and often opening cupboards and cabinets with brazen impunity.

As such, it was with some trepidation, about an hour of deep and blissful silence spent drawing preliminary sketches on canvas that Leonardo realized that Rosa had gone quiet.

"Rosa?"

No answer. Frowning, looking around warily, Leonardo grew a little worried. Rosa would not leave without informing him in her usual ebullient manner, nor had he ever observed her fall asleep while on 'duty'.

"Rosa?" Leonardo searched his workshop briefly, even looking under the desks and in the dissection room, and then he ascended the stairway, as alert as he could be to any footsteps or suspicious sounds. Perhaps there was an intruder while he was working. Or perhaps Rosa had looked out briefly at the rooftops and had an accident. If she were hurt, Ezio would-

He let out the breath he was holding when he noticed Rosa sitting on the floor beside his bed, unharmed, apparently going through a set of scrolls.

He was somewhat _less_ relieved when he saw the unlocked chest and realized what the scrolls _were_.

"Rosa!" Bright red, Leonardo darted forward, scooping up the scrolls on the ground and dumping them back in the chest. "You had no right!"

"Oh, come on, Leonardo," Rosa grinned, unrepentant as she dodged his wild grasp for the scrolls in her hands nimbly and perched up on the bedside desk. "These are very good. Even the early ones. Even those that are obviously not posed, no?"

"Do not tell him, please," Leonardo could recognize futility when he saw it, and chasing Rosa around the bedroom would not only be futile but also childishly undignified.

"Why not?"

"I know that between us there is only friendship. I do not want that ruined. I will burn these," Leonardo promised, steeling his voice from choking. "Just return that, please, and keep your silence." When Rosa merely arched an eyebrow, Leonardo's shoulders slumped. "I have money."

Rosa sniffed, tossing the scroll accurately at his ear. "Do not insult me, _bastardo_."

"Many years ago, I was in love. Before Ezio." Leonardo sat down heavily, placing the last scroll in the chest. "An enemy of mine discovered my secret, and accused me anonymously of sodomy. I would have been hanged, me, my lover, and my lover's brothers for facilitating the meetings, but for my tutor and Lorenzo de' Medici's intervention. We were acquitted, but a month later, my lover hanged himself. Suicide. The rumors, you see. So. Never again."

Rosa went from being perched on the dresser to kneeling by his side in a blink of an eye, and Leonardo froze as she hugged him tightly and kissed him on the ear. "You are a stupid _bastardo_ but you are also my friend. And I am a thief. Do you think I care what those spoiled _cretinos_ in Court think should be right and wrong about love? I will not tell him. _But_," she added softly, "I would rather that you did not burn these."

"They are dangerous, after all."

"Add other sketches," Rosa shrugged. "Myself, Antonio, Sister Teodora, Lorenzo de' Medici, people in the street, your acquaintances. The best disguise is the obvious one, Leonardo. Understand?"

"I understand."

"Good, good. But to be safe, I give you a week to make some sketches. Nice sketches. Especially of me," Rosa added, with a quick smirk. "And then I will take one home to Antonio's palazzo and put it in my room. You should give me one of Antonio as well. After that, if _he_ finds out, well, you just like to sketch your friends."

"I just like to sketch my friends," Leonardo echoed, dizzy, choking now on unexpected tears that he fought to swallow, and Rosa tugged him closer, tucking his head under her chin, rocking him silently and crooning something wordless until he slept.

VII

Despite Rosa and despite the fact that doing so _hurt_, Leonardo burned some of the sketches; particularly the unclothed ones, any which he felt might cause untoward comment. If Rosa noticed this on her next visit, she made no observation, instead occupying herself with an inordinate amount of feminine preening at the sketches he had made of her.

"These are very good," Rosa's favorite was one of the finer sketches, of her seated, thinking, on a vined balcony lattice overlooking one of the canals, one knee arched, an elbow resting upon it, mannish and feminine all at once. "More than very good. You are better than any artist I have ever seen! Can I _truly_ have one?"

"Thank you," Leonardo said, calmer now after a week of thought. "Please, have any of them. More than one, if you wish."

"I want this one, and this one of Antonio. It is not as good as mine, naturally, but he will like it." Rosa slipped the scrolls into a pouch at her belt. "If _he_ does not realize they are from you then you should cast your eye at someone else, because _he_ is a _cretino_ whose sole interest in life is murder. It is a pity," Rosa leant further forward on the table, hands braced on the edges, winking as she shamelessly and playfully displayed her cleavage, "That you do not like women. I can take care of you, better than _he_."

"I like women, I just have no interest in them," Leonardo pointedly kept his eyes diverted. "And Ezio is not like that at all."

"_Assassini_ only have one purpose, and it is being an _assassino_," Rosa straightened, patting his hand sympathetically. "He belongs to the Medici, and above that, to his _assassini della famiglia_. You are his friend but you will not be more than his friend, not unless you are part of his world."

"I have understood that a very long time ago, Rosa," Leonardo said calmly, forcing himself to hold her knowing stare. "Besides, I am nine years older than he."

"Pah! As though age makes any difference. Although," Rosa said, unrelenting, "The _cretino_ likes women."

"I have known that too. Most men do."

"Is this because you are an artist _and_ a philosopher?" Rosa asked suspiciously. "Antonio said you were touched by God, by the angels. I did not think he meant 'stupid'."

"Many men are no doubt stupid in the eyes of women," Leonardo smiled, as winningly as he could, and Rosa rolled her eyes, throwing up her hands.

"Fine! Kill yourself by pining to death over a _cretino_." Rosa patted her pouch. "But for this kind payment, I will make _some_ effort on your behalf."

"Effort? Effort to what?"

"To _help_ you, Leonardo," Rosa drawled, with exaggerated patience. "You want help with Ezio, no?"

"No!" Leonardo flushed bright red, standing up so quickly that his stool fell over with a sharp _clack_ on the flagstones.

"Of course you do," Rosa flapped one slender wrist at him dismissively. "Antonio and I will discuss this-"

"_Please_ do not tell Antonio."

"-again later."

"What do you mean '_again_'?"

"We will work something out," Rosa decided blithely. "Us thieves are good at solving locked room problems. Even if the locked room is a _cretino_'s heart."

"What have I done to offend you, Lord?" Leonardo muttered, setting his stool straight and slumping back down on it as Rosa patted him on the shoulder.

"Be happy, friend Leonardo! Do not worry, you are in safe hands. And draw more sketches. Of me, naturally."

VIII

Antonio took a deep and appreciative sip of the caffe that he had taken with him to the workshop. The bitter liquid was stimulating, and Leonardo rather enjoyed it – again, from Antonio's pleased response, it seemed this was also rather unusual. They had discussed Theophrastus and the theories of sensation, and were taking a comfortable lull that Leonardo used to sketch the veins of the leaves in a rosemary spring.

"And about Rosa's suggestion," Antonio said, after a second sip, "You will be pleased to know that we have acted upon it. Us thieves do not sit on our laurels."

Leonardo choked on his caffe.

"And so," Antonio continued pleasantly, as though he had not noticed, "Perhaps within the week you should expect a visit from Ezio."

"What," Leonardo wiped his mouth, "Did you _do_?"

"You know those pigeon coops that these _assassini_ use to take orders from their masters?" Antonio winked. "What paltry locks. What an even more paltry code and seal on the pigeons' letters. So easily removed and, we shall say, amended."

"_What_."

"Do not worry, we will put the original mission back on another pigeon. Perhaps even the same pigeon, a little later. He will never be any the wiser. You cannot say that Antonio is not good to his friends," Antonio said happily. "Your sketch, I have framed it in the hallway. I like it. Perhaps when you have time you can do a small painting. Only when you have time, of course."

"Of course," Leonardo echoed dumbly, horrified. No. Ezio was an intelligent man. Surely he would notice the ruse. It would only be logical. After all, he has had many, many assignations from Lorenzo. Surely he would notice a missive that was not in his master's handwriting. "Which pigeon coop is this?"

"Why spoil the surprise, friend Leonardo?" Antonio grinned. "You should enjoy life and the things that your friends will do for your sake."

God hated him. Leonardo was sure of that.

"There are many coops," Leonardo said hopefully. "He has told me this. So he might not see your message."

"Oh, we have taken care of that eventuality, of course. But it is good of you to point it out. I am glad to see that you are getting into the spirit of things."

Leonardo put his head in his hands.

IX

Leonardo was preparing to sleep, dressed in his nightshirt and setting a guttering candle by his bedside desk, when Ezio climbed in through the window.

Sucking on a finger burned on the hot wax from his shock, Leonardo managed a stuttered, "Ezio? What… how, er, how can I help you?"

"You are in grave danger," Ezio said urgently, waving an unstoppered vial under Leonardo's nose. "Drink this now."

Leonardo tried to focus on the vial instead of on how Ezio was crowding him up against the desk, and then he_ remembered_. Antonio. Rosa. The pigeon. "Ezio, is that from Antonio or Rosa?"

"Yes, why?" Ezio asked irritably. "Well, more accurately, it is from Sister Teodora. Drink it."

Leonardo thought _Sister Teodora_, prostitutes, and _aphrodisiac_ in one single logical train of thought and flushed. "No. And I think that you are the victim of a… a _prank_, they stole your pigeon and changed the message, that drink will be, will make me do things I will regret. That _we _will regret."

"So it is true," Ezio frowned, his tone anxious, _concerned_. "The poison, you have already taken the poison."

"Poison? What poison?" Leonardo ducked Ezio's attempts to force the vial into his mouth. "Ezio, stop!"

"You are already talking and acting like a madman. Rosa said that would be a bad sign. _Here_," Ezio snapped, pinning him against the wall and the crook of his arm, "Hold _still_." The assassin tipped the vial into his own mouth in an angry jerk, dropped the emptied vial, and to Leonardo's great shock, crushed their lips together.

Leonardo's mouth opened in sheer astonishment, and Ezio took the opportunity to push his tongue down his throat, tilting back his head with a practiced flick of his wrist. He pushed blindly at Ezio's shoulders for one halfhearted moment, then groaned and wrapped his arms over the assassin's neck, pressing closer, deeper, licking greedily into Ezio's mouth. The liquid, on taste, was clearly plain water flavored with a touch of vanilla essence, the kiss sweet, sinful, _perfect_.

It was over too quickly, Leonardo stumbling back against the desk and thanking God for the shadows and the thick linens of his nightshirt over his loins. Ezio steadied him absently with a quick grasp on his arm.

"Better?"

Leonardo stared, speechless, and Ezio exhaled loudly in frustration. "How else could I make you drink the antidote without pouring it down your throat and risking you throwing it back up? Sister Teodora explained that this would be the safest method."

So Sister Teodora was part of the conspiracy. Leonardo sighed. He was not surprised. "I think you are the victim of a cruel trick, my friend."

"I know you think yourself immune to my world, with your powerful patrons," Ezio did not move, still watching him so closely, so _searchingly_, "But the Barbarigo attack should already have proved otherwise to you, Leonardo. A cunningly administered poison, slow acting, this would be the least of the Borgia's evil."

Leonardo gave up. Besides, the weak man within him was still reveling in the kiss, in the taste of Ezio lingering on his lips. "I… er… then thank you, Ezio."

"Go to sleep. I will search your workshop for any clues."

"If you wish." Leonardo crawled into bed, curling up quickly. He waited until Ezio left the room before touching his lips in guilty memory.

He slept fitfully, plagued by wanting dreams, _Ezio's mouth, Ezio's smile_, and woke with a start, closer to dawn, looking out blearily through the window towards the skyline. When Leonardo realized Ezio was in his room, sitting at the foot of the bed and going through – _god _damn it, he had a lock on the chest for a reason – the scrolls, he sat up quickly. He had done as Rosa had suggested, but-

"You look better," Ezio said, without turning around. "And there were no clues. I will look farther afield."

"Did you rest?"

"For a time, in the spare room. I do not need much sleep." Ezio was looking at a scroll of Maria Auditore, her perfect hands clasped in her lap, the long, slender fingers that her son had inherited. "This is beautiful. All of these are beautiful. How long have you been sketching these?"

"I always sketch in my spare time," Leonardo said evasively, but Ezio didn't seem to notice, clearly happily absorbed, admiring each scroll with reverent fingers. "You can keep some if you wish."

"Truly? You are very generous, my friend."

"They are just sketches," Leonardo lied, watching Ezio set some aside. His mother's sketch, and one each of Rosa, Antonio, and Sister Teodora. At Leonardo's questioning stare, Ezio hesitated.

"Could I?"

"Of course. As many as you like."

"I want to show these to her and Claudia, show them the friends I have here. You do not have one of yourself," Ezio added, a little accusingly.

"It is hard to draw myself. And your family knows me."

"Use a mirror. My sister has not met you, and she will fall in love with you," Ezio grinned, all mischief, looking through another scroll. "So you were the one who drew the portraits in the hallway, in Antonio's palazzo."

"Rosa picked them."

"No doubt." Leonardo leaned against the wall, watching Ezio go through the scrolls slowly in companionable silence. The rising sun was beginning to tint the whitewashed walls a pale red, painting Ezio's striking features in softer shades.

He was almost dozing when Ezio remarked, "Most of the scrolls are of me."

The cold splash of reality shot Leonardo straight back to consciousness. "Of… of course. You are the, you are my closest friend." He should have made more sketches of the others. "And, uh, I prefer to draw men." Leonardo bit down on his tongue quickly. _Why_ had he _said_-

"Why?"

"The musculature is more challenging," Leonardo said quickly.

"I see." Ezio seemed to accept his explanation, carefully opening another scroll. "Some of the paper is quite old, as well, some of mine, while all of the ones of Antonio and the others are new."

"I was only recently introduced to the others," Thank God for Rosa, who had coached him on what to say.

"Even the one of my mother."

"Rosa asked me what she looked like. I apologize, if you would rather I did not-"

"Do not worry so much, Leonardo. Why would I not want a friend to know how beautiful my mother is?" Ezio picked up another scroll, one of the last ones, the paper long yellowed. "This one, the armor I am wearing… it was the day I brought you the broken blade."

"Yes," Leonardo did not know what to say, looking down at his hands. He _knew_ he should have burned that one. "You were… you were so tired, I did not want to wake you. So I waited."

"I was so young then." Ezio murmured, turning the sketch up into the growing light from the waking sun. "Young and stupid."

"We were all young and stupid once."

"You? I find it hard to believe."

"Even me," Leonardo said wryly, watching Ezio tuck the scroll carefully back into the chest. "Even me."

X

Leonardo was reading by candlelight in his bedroom when Antonio climbed down onto the sill. Having had long acquaintance with Ezio, Rosa and the other thieves, this did not surprise him any longer.

"Antonio. Ah, good to see you."

"Leonardo," Antonio beamed. "Feeling better?"

Leonardo stifled the urge to throw the book into Antonio's face. "No, and no thanks to you and Rosa! That was… that was _outrageous_. I cannot _believe_ your temerity-"

"All's well that ends well though? You are better, everyone is better." Antonio slipped easily into the room, straightening with a yawn.

"I am not _better_," Leonardo corrected, struggling to control his temper. "You _knew_, you and Rosa, you _knew_ and yet, to do something like this to me when you know I love him with all my heart and my soul, how could it not hurt me when I know it could never happen any other way? When I had to lie to him when he asked me why most of the sketches were of him? When I had to smile and thank him for the 'antidote' when I would have gladly died to kiss him again? No, sir, I am _not_ feeling better, and you, sir, owe us an apology."

Antonio had tried to interrupt Leonardo's tirade at points with a raised hand, but he refused to let him get in a single word. The kiss had been seared into him, burned into his dreams, and it _hurt_ to know all too well that the thieves' trick had been beneath it all. Letting Antonio know exactly what he felt about the thief's meddling was… cathartic.

Up until he realized Antonio looked somewhat more worried than he should even for a lecture.

Up until there were the clear sounds of someone running away on the roof, and then a loud, ugly curse from Rosa, and another set of following footsteps, fading away into the night.

Leonardo exhaled, and leant back against the wall. It was clear. Perhaps in his previous life, he had been a great sinner against God.

"Well," Antonio said philosophically, after an awkward silence, "If he does not kill Rosa, I think she will be able to make things right."

Leonardo closed his eyes, forcing himself to slow his breathing, and then he shook his head slowly and put his book down on the sheets. What was done was done, and if he looked deep within him, it was aching, dull _relief_ that all was now known, that there were no more secrets. "Caffe?"

"I would be pleased."

XI

Rosa was very contrite the next day, having even arrived with sweet, mulled wine and a variety of delicacies and desserts. Exhausted, not having slept for the night, Leonardo could only accept her apology with good grace.

"It is actually a relief," Leonardo admitted. "He might hate me now but at least I am no longer hiding."

"I wish a man would say those things about me," Rosa said, almost wistfully, and grinned wickedly when Leonardo groaned and curled his fingers up over his skull. "You are being dramatic. He does not hate you. He is just leaving Venezia to think."

"After which he will hate me."

" 'Nothing is true, everything is permitted'," Rosa echoed, and Leonardo frowned, startled. "Antonio said that is the _assassini_ creed. I do not think he will be as angry as you think. Besides, he needs you."

"He can easily send a messenger to me with his codex pages-"

"I did not mean it that way," Rosa hooked up the spare chair with her ankle and settled down next to Leonardo. "He talks more about you than about anyone else, even his family. He thinks the world of you."

"As a friend. If even that, now."

"You are too pessimistic. I spoke to him, remember? He does not hate you."

"Did he burn the sketches he took with him?"

"What is it with you and burning sketches?" Rosa glared, folding her arms across her ample bosom. "If he does not want them, _I_ want them. If the _cretino_ has burned them I will kill him."

"No, no. They are not important." Leonardo sighed, slumping down against his workshop desk, pillowing his head on his arms. "After that problem in Firenze, the one that Lorenzo saved me from, I thought I was beyond this. I wish now that the Medici had never introduced me to the Auditore."

"No man is beyond love," Rosa said expansively, cocking her head for a moment as though in sudden revelation, and then she grinned mischievously and pulled over the bottle of wine. "Come, drink. I will drink with you, and then we will go upstairs to your bed, and I will show you how much better I can take care of you than that ill-tempered _cretino_ who does not deserve you."

"The ill-tempered _cretino_ is here," Ezio said dryly from the stairwell, and Leonardo flinched, barking his knee sharply on the table as he tried to rise.

"You must forgive me if I had thought that the ill-tempered _cretino_ had made good on his word to flee Venezia with the morning tide," Rosa retorted tartly. "Do you want Leonardo or not? If not, I intend to seduce him. If not me, then maybe Antonio will. Or the both of us."

"Rosa!"

"Go away, woman," Ezio braced a palm on the balustrade and vaulted lithely down onto the floorboards. "I need to talk to Leonardo."

"Do I have to confiscate all your weapons first?" Rosa asked, meeting the assassin's challenging stare unflinchingly.

"I am not going to _hurt_ him," Ezio said irritably.

"You mean, any more than you already have?"

"Rosa, please. Thank you, but I can do this myself," Leonardo tried to sound as determined and as confident as he could, and sounded tired instead. Rosa turned her glare upon him, then muttered a vile imprecation under her breath and stormed up the stairs. Ezio waited until he heard her leave from the window (did _none_ of his friends know how to use the _door_) before shifting uncomfortably, staring at his feet.

Leonardo broke the strained silence first. "It was the thieves' fault. A prank. If you want to forget everything and continue to be friends, I am more than happy to do so."

"I do not want that," Ezio said fiercely, then he looked away, to the door, hooking his fingers in his belt. "I do not know what I want."

"I can wait, if you wish to go away for a while."

"If I go away now I will not return with the right decision." Ezio circled around the desk, and Leonardo forced himself not to flinch as the assassin abruptly embraced him tightly, fingers curling roughly into his shoulder, around his ribs. "I do not like seeing you hurt."

"It will pass," Leonardo whispered, burying his face against Ezio's embroidered collar. Warmth and leather and steel, some things did not change.

"Nor have I ever had someone say such things about me. No one has ever wanted me like that."

"You are young."

"_Listen_," Ezio growled, just against his ear, and Leonardo shivered. "Other than my family, there is no one more important to me than you."

"I said I would be happy to remain friends-" Leonardo's words were cut off when Ezio exhaled in exasperation and kissed him, angrily at first, all clicking teeth and scraping tongues, then gentler, sweeter kisses that stole his breath and thought; when Leonardo sagged in his arms, light-headed, _purring_ when Leonardo tentatively stroked thumbs over his ears, carded fingers through silky hair.

"I want to try this," Ezio murmured, when they broke for breath and Leonardo was gasping, dizzy and only supported upright by Ezio's arms. "It feels right."

"It is against the law."

Ezio grinned, and Leonardo immediately felt somewhat foolish for giving his words voice. "If I am caught by the authorities, there are far greater crimes that I will be executed over, Leonardo."

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted?" Leonardo echoed, and Ezio's grin faded, the assassin looking at him oddly.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Rosa."

"I suppose if anyone would know it would be her. Did she tell you what it was?"

"She said it was your 'creed'."

"Perhaps not an interpretation that my ancestors would agree with," Ezio said, with wry humor, but he leaned in for another kiss.

XII

"See? Rosa fixes everything," Rosa said, not without smugness. Sister Teodora's 'chapel' had a stateroom complete with velvet curtains and heavy mahogany furniture, leather books in bolted shelves along the walls, discreet metal rings set into the sides, and Leonardo had never really wanted to know why. At present, it was being used as a tea room, with Sister Teodora serving small cakes, wine, tea, in Leonardo's case, and caffe, in Antonio's.

Ezio was seated beside him, an arm draped casually over Leonardo's shoulders. Of necessity, it was only in private, or with the closest of friends, that anything could be _shown_, but for this Leonardo was already intensely grateful. He sipped his tea in silence, as Ezio snorted.

"You and Antonio owed me several favors."

"By that accounting, _you_ owe us a favor now," Antonio pointed out, enveloped in a deeply cushioned chair, in blissful caffe heaven. "Or if not you, then Leonardo."

"Leave him out of this," Ezio said, his voice not without a note of warning, but the thieves merely chuckled.

"Oh, now the _cretino_ is _so_ protective," Rosa leaned forward to trail fingers up Leonardo's arm, ignoring Ezio's glare. "Leonardo goes to Court so very often, or the Palazzos, or the Piazzas, he meets lonely court butterflies who have not seen so fine a man, or old men who have not feasted their eyes on so handsome a-"

"Rosa," Leonardo interjected quickly, as Ezio growled. "I have no interest, as I have said."

"I was not worried about you, but _for_ you," Rosa said sweetly, clearly baiting Ezio, who was also clearly falling for it. Leonardo was not sure whether or not to feel gratified.

"I will teach him to defend himself."

"I do _not_ need to learn that," Leonardo protested, with a quick, accusing stare at Rosa. "Nor do I have time."

"You will make time," Ezio decided, leaning over to brush lips tenderly over his ear, and Leonardo shivered, almost dropping his cup. Rosa curled back onto her seat, seemingly satisfied, even as Sister Teodora rolled her eyes and Antonio smirked.

"Honestly, Leonardo. When you last told me you were in love I did not think it would be Ezio," Sister Teodora said mildly, refilling his tea. "Does Ezio even know what to do with a man?"

Leonardo coughed. "Er…"

"Or the both of you have _not_…?"

"No," Leonardo said quickly, at the same time that Ezio snapped, "It is none of your business."

"Is it Ezio? I think it is Ezio," Rosa grinned wickedly, winking when Ezio glared at her in turn. Antonio shook his head slowly, concentrating on his caffe.

"If have any questions, or if you need help with your performance, feel free to ask. At the very least, I have herbs," Sister Teodora said soothingly.

"I am _leaving_," Ezio said pointedly, though his ears were bright red.

"Our rooms are always open to you, Ezio," Sister Teodora said, untroubled. "If you ever need a little specialized comfort and succor from Leonardo."

"_Sister __Teodora_," Leonardo gasped, scalding his tongue.

"I will remember that," Ezio retorted playfully, in the place of outrage, much to Leonardo's surprise; he twisted around to look at the assassin, disbelieving, and his lips slanted up against a waiting mouth.

XIII

For all his words, however, and for all that Ezio lay now in Leonardo's bed whenever he visited Venezia, caresses oft turned awkward and fleeting. It was new to Ezio, Leonardo reminded himself, each time, and he was patient. This, after all, was already more than he could have hoped for, to kiss, to hold Ezio in the waking dark in his arms as the assassin slept his fitful sleep.

One night Ezio returned after three weeks in Firenze, resting his ear over Leonardo's heart and stroking his beautiful fingers in splaying circles down his belly, and Leonardo was tired; it had been a long day in the Piazzo. He was unable to stifle his moan, the quick instinctive buck of his hips. Ezio's hand stilled instantly.

"I am sorry," Leonardo said, his fingers squeezing Ezio's shoulder nervously.

"It is still strange," Ezio murmured, apology in his tone. "And it has been a year."

"At any time, if you wished-"

"_No_," Ezio cut in sharply. "I want you. I love you," he added, low and fierce, making Leonardo's heart leap to his throat, the way he could now forgive Ezio all things, "It is just… strange."

"If I could touch you instead?" Leonardo asked, emboldened, but hesitant. "You could close your eyes," he continued, when Ezio didn't answer. "Pretend that you are lying with a woman."

"I would not do that to you," Ezio said gruffly, though he flicked a tongue up along Leonardo's jaw. "What would you do?"

"My hands," Leonardo rested a palm tentatively on Ezio's thigh, sliding it higher, just below the apex of his legs, when the assassin did not flinch away. "And then, my mouth."

Ezio shuddered against him, his breath hot against his neck. "Yes."

Divested of clothes, however, the assassin was limp in his grasp, with Leonardo kneeling between splayed thighs; even though Ezio shivered and moaned when Leonardo turned tongue and teeth to dusky nipples, his free hand alternatively stroking lean, muscular flanks or slipping down to squeeze his perfect rump. Ezio kept his fingers on the bed, seemingly awkward, curling his fists into the sheets when Leonardo kissed down his heaving chest to the curls between his legs, the assassin shivering and arching when Leonardo laved soft sacs with his tongue, the flesh in his grip firming slowly.

Ezio gasped a curse when Leonardo licked experimentally at the tip, and he had to hide a smile. It had been so _long_, and this was _Ezio_. He would have to take his time. The hot shaft thickened quickly under his mouth, as he pressed wet kisses down its length, jerking when he drew the tip of his tongue against the wet slit, the musky, masculine scent filling his senses as he took the now engorged head in his mouth and sucked.

The assassin bucked with a startled yelp, almost choking Leonardo, and he held down narrow hips quickly. He could not resist pulling back, with a wet sound underscoring Ezio's frustrated moan, could not resist grinning. "Surely the women have done this for you before."

"It was not so good with the women," Ezio said harshly, reaching down to push a hand down over the back of Leonardo's skull insistently. "Who taught you how to do this? I will kill him tomorrow."

Leonardo had braced himself instinctively for the weight of old pain from older ghosts, but to his amazement he felt only amusement as he turned back down, obliging, swallowing inch by inch until he could take no more, and wrapping the fingers of his right hand against what was left.

The stretch was a barely remembered ache in his jaw as Ezio writhed and cried out, a wounded, hoarse sound that twisted lust in a sudden painful throb in his own loins. Leonardo ignored it, breathing hard through his nose and sucking harder, stroking his tongue against the throbbing vein against it. Fingers curled painfully into his shoulders, his hair, and then Ezio snarled, bucking roughly up into his throat as he spent himself. Leonardo drew back hastily, coughing, swallowing what he could and wiping the rest over the back of his hand.

Ezio looked delicious, sprawled and dazed, naked against his sheets and wetting his lips with his tongue, breathing hard. He opened his mouth, trying to form words, managed a croak, then a wry grin; Leonardo was reminded all too pointedly of his body's own needs, and, licking his own lips, tried to slip off the bed.

The assassin caught him quickly by the arm. "Where…" Ezio cleared his throat. "Where are you going?"

"Ah, the, washing facilities," Leonardo said awkwardly. "I want to kiss you, and, right now, I will not taste very-"

"You have not finished," Ezio looked pointedly at the tent in his nightshirt.

"I will do that in the facilities." Leonardo squirmed, uncomfortably aroused. The scent of Ezio's sex was still thick in the room, and he was beginning to find it difficult to breathe.

"Take this off," Ezio said irritably, his free hand plucking at Leonardo's nightshirt. "I will use my hands."

"You, you do not need to-"

"I want to," Exasperation. "Now, Leonardo."

Self-consciously, Leonardo removed his nightshirt, fully naked for the first time before his lover, feeling awkward as callused fingers ran curiously over his ribs, over his belly and his flanks, his thighs, knuckles brushing up against his cheekbones, curling down his spine, splaying down to his hips. Ezio sat up, pulling him up against him, licking tentatively at his mouth, and then pulling a face.

"See," Leonardo said dryly, but he stilled when Ezio closed one of his perfect hands over his flesh, the assassin licking a path down to his neck, then abruptly sinking his teeth into his shoulder even as he jerked roughly – almost too roughly – at Leonardo's shaft. When he shattered, instantly, he did so with a broken moan, pleasure swift and so unforgivingly intense that it _burned_.

XIV

"Tomorrow I go to Roma," Ezio murmured against his back, his moustache and beard scratchy against his shoulder. They were both spent, first in the workshop, despite Leonardo's protests, and then again in their bed. "It will be a while. And I may not return." When Leonardo did not answer, instead hunching his shoulders, Ezio sighed, and pressed a kiss against the arch of his spine. When they tangled again in the morning it was urgent, desperate.

Alone in his workshop, later, cleaning up with scents and rags, Leonardo considered leaving. Leaving for Milan.

XV

The workshop that the Duke of Milan provides him with is more spacious by far than Venezia's, but Leonardo disdains servants, preferring a solitary, private life outside of the necessity of Court.

He does not think about Roma, or the rumors. Pope Alexander IV still lives, despite the turmoil that had overtaken Roma for a time, and by that standard, Leonardo thinks, grimly, that he is right to leave Venezia after all, Venezia and her memories that turn crueler in the dust.

He hopes that it was quick for Ezio, that there was no suffering.

Leonardo manages to put the finishing touches on his commission for the Confraternity of the Immaculate Conception with only minor intellectual interruptions, and is beginning his sketches for the _Last Supper_, when a voice behind him observes, mildly, "Milan is pleasant in the summer."

Leonardo bites down hard on his lip, and does not turn. "It is a little too early in the day for a haunting."

An exhalation, so familiarly exasperated, and arms encircle him tightly from behind, a kiss presses against his neck, stubble tickling his skin; Leonardo turns, disbelieving. "You."

"Me," Ezio admits, playfully, caressing one hand up to his arm, his shoulder, his cheek, and rests his forehead against Leonardo.

"Pope Alexander lives."

"Aye."

"I thought you were _dead_."

"I know." A soft breath. "I am sorry. I should have sent word."

"When you saw that I had left Venezia…?"

"I was angry," Ezio confesses. "And busy. And," he adds, brushing his thumb tenderly over Leonardo's bitten lip, "Foolish."

"Ah." A whisper, as lips follow Ezio's thumb, sweet and inevitable and complete.


	2. The Second World 1

[A/N: This one will be a short story instead. ;o Think of Vitruvian Man as the structure, the background painting.]

The Second World

Chapter 1

I

Ezio always seemed tense when they were out together on the streets in public. Leonardo had attributed this naturally to Ezio's status as an outlaw, until Carnivale, when masked and attired handsomely in a dark vest, a flowing shirt and soft fawn breeches and high oxblood boots, with only the rapier visible at his hip, Ezio was _still_ skittish.

"No one will recognize you," Leonardo murmured soothingly, as they strolled over a bridge, past a patrol of guardsmen who did not give them a second glance. "Enjoy the moment."

"I have to leave for Tuscany in three days and you want to spend our time walking," Ezio muttered, clearly occupied in watching passing guardsmen with the corner of his eyes.

His silver mask had been hand-made by Leonardo himself, crafted painstakingly over the course of a week out of silver and velvet and feathers, once Leonardo had received word that Ezio would be in Venezia for Carnivale – not that Ezio seemed to realize this, having accepted it without comment or curiosity. Still, it looked so good on his beloved that Leonardo could only feel a sense of self-congratulation rather than hurt.

"Indulge me." A couple passed, young and blithely in love, the lady coiffed with perfume and lace, her paramour in velvets, arm in arm with fingers interlaced, their heads bent together. Leonardo watched, a little wistful, and it took a moment for him to realize Ezio was speaking.

"-it is not safe even in Carnivale. Especially in Carnivale. Marco may be dead but it is like fighting a hydra, more heads simply appear."

Leonardo sighed, and Ezio looked at him sharply. He smiled weakly, trying his best to look as though he had been listening all along. "Yes, of course."

"Am I boring you?" Ezio asked, his lips quirking briefly, unconsciously inviting; Leonardo thought of the couple, and stifled another sigh. _They_ could have kissed, for the entire world to see, for all the law cared.

"No. It is a nice evening."

Ezio puzzled this over, clearly thinking it a non sequitur, silent as they entered the small park overlooking the waters. Performers juggled gaily-ribboned batons at the corners, music played from the string quartet at the center, and men and women danced in slow, winding circles over the grass, laughing and chatting in a buzz of warm, comfortable conversation, powdered bosoms and lace and velvets. Leonardo led Ezio to the archway by the edge of the waters to watch, drinking in the sights; wine was being served, free, by an enterprising merchant – Leonardo reached for a glass, only for Ezio to refuse with a shake of his head.

"It would not be safe," Ezio explained, as the disappointed merchant circled away. "Why are we here?"

"I had thought it would be pleasant. The music, the dancing." Leonardo deflated a little as Ezio stared at him, disbelieving. Clearly, this had not been one of his better ideas. "Do you want to leave?"

"No," Ezio said slowly, clearly humoring him, the assassin's eyes flicking over to the patrol circling the far perimeter, then to the rooftops, framed by the velvet sky, almost longingly. "We can stay."

"If there is anywhere you prefer to be, or we could return to the workshop-"

"You worry like a woman," Ezio said dismissively, looking back down to the crowd, expressionless. "You want to be here, _bene_, we are here."

The music and the dancing now seemed less pleasant. "It… perhaps it is too crowded." Leonardo murmured, disappointed, as he led Ezio back the way they had come.

Perhaps he was expecting a little too much, after all. It had only been two, three weeks into their… arrangement, and Ezio did not care to do much more than kiss, and this only in private. In public, he flirted, even with Rosa, save when they walked together, and then, he was so _distant_. Leonardo could understand, but it was occasionally frustrating.

Wondering whether he was trying too hard, too fast, Leonardo missed Ezio stopping abruptly until the amused chuckle. "Leonardo."

"Ah…" Leonardo hastened back. "_Scusa_, Ezio, what is it?"

"Up there. Go." When Leonardo looked up blankly, Ezio pointed, impatient. "The ladder, Leonardo. Up the ladder. Do not argue."

"_Bene_…" Leonardo said, somewhat nonplussed, but climbed.

The ladder led up the side of a townhouse to the narrow slate roof; beside him, distractingly, Ezio clambered up porticos and window slats with prehensile ease, beating him to the roof and not even breathless. The adjoining roofs led to the edge of the waters, with the rest of Venezia and its snaking roofs a maze of deep lazuli under the waning moon, the Rialto before him, the lumbering crests of Palazzos and the Piazza breaking the skyline and arching over the slate sea. Leonardo drank in the sight, his fingers twitching, then he jumped with a stifled yelp when Ezio curled a warm hand over the small of his back.

"No one is up here to see," Ezio murmured huskily against his ear. The hand stroked a soft circle against his spine, and then fingers intertwined with his in an intimate grasp. "Is this what you wanted?"

"We are h-hardly entirely alone," Leonardo's stutter did not pass unnoticed: Ezio smiled, lazy and smug.

"Many of the archers participate in the revels in Carnivale. There are a handful of blind spots in their patrols. Here." Ezio tugged at his hand, leading him carefully over the slate roofs to a wooden platform, with a veiled pavilion upon it. "Sit."

Leonardo sat on the stair, leaning against the wooden rail and bemused, as Ezio rummaged in the pavilion. The night's breeze was cool, and up above the street, was fresher, pleasant. The sea curled in a wide, calm arc before him, above, a dark painted bowl dotted with stars, dizzy in its perfection; he felt as though he bestrode two worlds, with one foot sliding into the _Lethe_, his disbelief making him lightheaded in his simmering joy.

With a flourish, Ezio produced wine, two glasses, and a packet of cream pastries. Stunned by what this seemed to entail, Leonardo was silent until Ezio decanted. "You planned this?"

"No, Leonardo," Ezio said dryly, as he set the bottle by his side and handed him a glass, "The wine and the _choux_ just happened to be here."

"I… oh… that is quite a coincidence. Should we really be-"

"_Porca vacca! _Of _course_ I planned it." The mask thankfully hid Ezio's expression. "A woman would have kissed me by now."

Taking the broad hint, Leonardo smiled shyly and leant close… only for their masks to bump and scrape. Ezio laughed, low and throaty, edging their half-masks to their foreheads and curling fingers around the nape of his neck.

II

The problem, Leonardo told Antonio on the fourth day, when Ezio had left on the first ship to Tuscany, lay not with Ezio after all but with Leonardo himself. It was clear that Leonardo was making no effort in the least to fit into Ezio's world, which was why misunderstandings still occurred.

Antonio listened with all the caffe-laced concentration that he usually applied to Aquinas' _Summa Contra Gentilea_, and Leonardo relaxed. It seemed Antonio probably agreed with him after all. And Antonio knew Ezio well, too. It made the favor which he was about to ask seem more palatable.

"That may be so, friend Leonardo," Antonio said finally, "But you cannot fit into his world, while he was born into yours. Therefore, in _ogni logico_, _he_ should be the one adapting."

"I could try. He tries."

"Can you steal, lie, spy or kill, friend Leonardo?" Antonio asked, with a quick grin that was not unkind. "I have seen you buy songbirds from their cages to set them free. You do not eat meat at your table because you cannot bear to cause hurt to any animal. You are a man of great kindness and compassion. In fact, it is a source of great _misterio_ to myself and Rosa why you are in love with an _assassino_. Have you met his father, Giovanni?"

"Yes." Leonardo looked down at his hands, an artist's hands, which had never held a blade save for the purposes of art and science. Antonio had a point.

"How about his uncle, Mario?"

"Once, briefly and in passing. Ezio introduced us."

"Then you will know that the men of his family do not age well," Antonio said cheerfully. "Ezio will be handsome perhaps for another twenty, thirty years, and then…"

"In twenty, thirty years, _I_ will still be older than he," Leonardo pointed out. "And his beauty is not the reason. How do you define the _logico_ of love, Antonio? _Amore_ by its own definition cannot contain logic."

"That is an excellent premise," Antonio declared, taking a sip of his caffe, "And yet, the process is usually entirely logical. How can you separate process from the experience? Most people love people they meet from acquaintances, from social activities, they notice the person logically either through physical traits or from some quirk of personality. All or most of the _categoriae_, the _antepraedicamenta_ must exist for there to be love. There is always a reason behind love, a logic."

"And yet the reason may not always be entirely reasonable," Leonardo pointed out. "Men and women often fall inappropriately in love."

"Social norms do not factor into logic."

"If logic is from the mental reasoning of a person's mind, then it must, for a decision to be thought logical, by definition. Still, we are distracted. I was wondering if you could assist me with my predicament, _amico mio_."

"There is no predicament," Antonio said dryly. "You are in love, he is… most probably… in love…" the thief paused, when Leonardo looked away uncomfortably. "No? He has not told you?"

"No."

"Did he tell you that you were the most important person to him other than his family? He told Rosa that. Rosa can swear to you by the Holy Book."

"He did say."

"Then? You need to hear the words?" Antonio grinned impishly, as Leonardo blushed. "Well, that is easily fixed, without turning you into a thief. I need merely-"

"No more interference from you _or_ Rosa, please."

"But look how well the _first_ time turned out. And you are asking me for help, but also asking me not to interfere. Friend Leonardo, you are most confusing."

"I know. I know," Leonardo said, apologetic, frustrated. It was difficult to put his thought to words. "Rosa told me that if I was not of his world then I could not be more than his friend."

"Evidently she has already been proved wrong, no? You are far more than just another port in a storm, friend Leonardo, and if you think otherwise then, well, I should think Ezio has more to worry of you than you do of him."

"Him? Why?"

"You are generally regarded to be one of the most beautiful men in Italia. Are you not aware?" Antonio winked, as Leonardo reddened further. "It is a topic discussed by the _puttana_ and the _gentildonna_ alike. With your wealth and your connections, your looks, you are Italia's most eligible bachelor, your lack of noble blood aside."

"It is a considerable aside," Leonardo said dryly. "I am an illegitimate commoner's child. No amount of talent or wealth or connections forgets that."

"Have you told Ezio?"

"He knows. He," Leonardo smiled, unable to hide his affection at the memory, "Does not care, in the least."

"Well, do not love him merely on that account," Antonio teased. "Rosa and I do not care either. But we are distracted again. I suppose that if you have truly set your mind on this incomprehensible endeavor, we will be happy to have you join our guild as an honorary trainee. If you have time, naturally, seeing as you have so many commissions."

"_Molto bene, _I can clear up some of my evenings, _grazie_!" Leonardo said, relieved and grateful. "Should I go to your palazzo?"

"Not openly. Your face is too well known. Wear a hood and none of your usual colorful finery. Do not leave your workshop by the front door. Someone will come by with suitable clothes."

"Thank you, _amico mio_."

"Our training is most rigorous. You will regret those words soon." Antonio paused. "Also, let us try to keep this a secret from Ezio. He is, as you undoubtedly know, highly protective, and his wrath tends to be somewhat lethal to its unfortunate recipients."

"I am sure he will understand my motives."

"And there you have it," the thief said expansively. "The great illogic of love."

III

In Antonio's office, Rosa's expression was a curious mix of astonishment and horror, once Antonio explained further. "Ezio will kill us. He will kill us and then he will set fire to your palazzo."

"He does not look _that_ bad," Antonio said, cheerfully dismissive. "How are the new clothes, Leonardo?"

"Different." Leonardo had been provided with a selection of gray, discolored shirts and ragtag vests, patchy breeches and cracked boots, with a stitched hood that covered his hair and shadowed his eyes. Save for the boots, which chafed a little, all of them had fit, nearly perfectly. "And comfortable."

"_Pazzo_," Rosa muttered, "_Un pazzo!_ Men must all be uniformly stupid. What made you agree to a lovesick idiot's ideas, Antonio? And _you_, Leonardo-"

"What you said to me then made absolute sense, Rosa," Leonardo said, as soothingly as he could. "I want to-"

"I was wrong!" Rosa snapped, throwing up her hands. "I was wrong and happily proven wrong. There is nothing that can be made better by your _un pazzo cretino_ ideas. If you want Ezio to spend more time with you, make a petition to his master, Lorenzo de' Medici!"

"That is not my intention…"

"Rosa, it was my decision," Antonio said, with an air of finality. "Leonardo wants to learn, and he is our friend, so we should be happy to teach. Think of it as an experiment."

"An experiment that will get us _all_ killed in our sleep with your palazzo burned to the ground." Rosa sprawled into a chair, drawing her arm across her face. "And he will never believe that this was not _my_ idea. Our blood will be on your hands, 'friend' Leonardo. My ghost will haunt you from the grave."

"Take Leonardo outside and teach him the basics," Antonio said blithely, clearly immune to Rosa's histrionics.

"What basics? He does not know anything!"

"I guess he can learn how to climb," Antonio said vaguely.

"Oh? And if he falls and breaks his arm? How do we explain _that_ to Ezio?"

"He fell from a horse."

"I will try not to break anything," Leonardo's reassuring tone only caused Rosa to swing her furious glare from Antonio to Leonardo.

"Do you even know how to roll with your fall? How to spread your weight? How to jump for a ledge? Do you even know what can hold your weight?" Rosa turned her glare back to Antonio. "Leonardo is going to die, and then Ezio is going to kill us."

"Just pick somewhere easy. With something to break his fall beneath it." Antonio said calmly. "At the very most, if it is too hard, then Leonardo can simply go home and we can forget about this endeavor, _si_?"

"_Si, si!_ You crazy _bastardi_, I hope all of you burn in hell!" Rosa snarled, storming out of the room.

Leonardo and Antonio stared after her, and then Antonio said, cheerfully, "She is such a spirited girl."

"Ah…"

"_Leonardo! Dio mio_, if you want to kill yourself so badly, then hurry up!"

IV

Despite Rosa's dire predictions, thanks to the hay shuffled under the section of the wall by nervously watching thieves, Leonardo only managed a few bruises. They were in the previous thieves' guild headquarters, a quiet square of narrow houses with easy slats and scaffolding. Leonardo learned quickly; how to twist his body when he fell, how to override instinctive panic and reach out quickly for handholds. Still, he was sweating profusely by the time Rosa called a break.

"You are not bad," Rosa said grudgingly, sitting down with him on the hay as the thieves passed around a flagon of water. "But you are not fit. You have the strength, the dexterity, the mental discipline, but it is obvious that you spend most of your time painting in your workshop. We can give you a set of exercises, but you have to be careful not to ruin your fingers. Until then, climbing will have to wait."

"_Bene_," Leonardo said, relieved. Ezio climbed so easily and quickly, it had looked so effortless. It was, on hindsight, startling; the man had to have perfect control of his body.

Thinking of Ezio's body made Leonardo blush, thankfully hidden by the flush of exertion already on his cheeks. He drank, while Rosa sprawled back on the hay and glared at the sky. "I will escort you home. Are you still bent on causing the murder of your friends?"

"I want to learn," Leonardo corrected. "At the most, I will speak to Ezio if he finds out. He will listen. It was my idea, after all."

"Yes, you will speak _to_ him, and he will no doubt listen, very carefully, kiss you good night, and then come to our palazzo and murder us all," Rosa said, in morbid melodrama. "_Dio mio_. I am too young to die. At least he will be away for a couple of weeks. We should be safe until then. I will write my last will and testament."

"_Grazie_ for your help, Rosa. I really appreciate it. I am learning."

"That is what I am afraid of." Rosa muttered. "What makes you think this will improve matters? Perhaps Ezio noticed you because you are different. If you become like the rest of his associates, he might lose interest. No?"

"No," Leonardo disagreed. He was sure of that, at least, and in any case, he was more than aware, modesty aside, that there were no other men in Italia as he. "Besides, this is quite exciting."

"Better than painting?"

"I love to paint, to sculpt, to invent," Leonardo held up his hands, rubbing carefully at the reddened welts. He might have blisters on the morrow. "But to do so on behest rather than under my will… sometimes… I would retire if I could, now that I have enough money to live comfortably, but my patrons are most insistent."

"You are procrastinating," Rosa said bluntly. "Try not to dress it up in prettier words. _Bene!_ The next time, we will teach you to move silently. It is unlikely that you will break your neck doing that, at least. I have some salve for your hands. Apply it before you sleep."

"_Grazie_, Rosa."

"The _usual_ way to do it, _cretino_, is for you to talk to the other _cretino_ you are in love with and try to sort out your problems," Rosa observed, "Instead of coming up with ludicrous ideas. Maybe the problem is something else. Maybe he is just busy. You should just speak to Lorenzo."

"No, how could I? Besides, that is not the problem at all. We are both busy men. It is just…" Leonardo trailed off, collecting his thoughts. "When I want to do something together, he just seems so distant. I am not sure what he likes, what he enjoys."

"Is this," Rosa said slowly, "About _sex_?"

"_No!_" Leonardo blushed furiously. "No, no."

"So, there is still no sex."

Leonardo sighed, trying not to roll his eyes. Sometimes, Rosa became fixated on ideas and refused to let them go. "That is _not_ the problem, Rosa."

"Usually it is. Paola can help you there. She has herbs, remember?"

"No, no, it is about the _relationship_. He does not appear to enjoy being with me. Always preoccupied. I felt perhaps I was just approaching the relationship inappropriately, or incorrectly. I felt an insight into the way he lives might help me understand."

Rosa stared at him for a long moment, then huffed and pillowed her head on her arms. "Go and talk to Paola about the herbs, Leonardo. _And_," she added sharply, before he could defend himself further, "The next time you come here for your lessons, wear softer shoes. Older ones. The _merde_ that Antonio provided you with obviously does not fit. I also expect a painting for my efforts."

"Of course, Rosa."

"At the very least," Rosa said, with a loud, self-pitying sniff, "If I die in my sleep, the world will have something to remember me by."

-tbc-


	3. The Second World 2

[A/N: Well, Mario had to appear sometime, since he is my second favorite Auditore…]

The Second World

Chapter 2  
I

"_Porca lurida puttana, fottuta troia_," Mario Auditore da Firenze snarled, throwing down his blade in disgust, metal ringing against flagstones with a dramatic air of finality. "I cannot teach someone who cannot learn. _He_," Mario continued, whirling around to glare at Antonio, "Cannot fight!"

"Well," Antonio interjected soothingly, "Leonardo, perhaps if you could stop apologizing whenever you so much as touch Mario's blade?"

It had been a rather enlightening one hour, if at least in terms of adding additional invective to his personal vocabulary. Leonardo smiled sheepishly as he lowered the rapier in his hand. They stood in the courtyard of the old thieves' guild, with thieves watching from the balconies and sills, Antonio perched on a set of crates at the far end, with Rosa on a set of scaffolding.

Mario was passing by, Antonio had explained, when Leonardo had come to the guild for his evening 'lessons', and since Mario had been the one to teach Ezio about the blade, perhaps it would be fitting that Mario also in turn taught Leonardo. Mario didn't remember their last meeting, recognising him only by repute and very vaguely as 'Ezio's friend': and had been glad – at least one hour ago – to teach.

On the other hand, it appeared as though Ezio had kept their relationship secret from his family, or at least from his uncle. Leonardo wasn't sure whether or not to feel relieved or disappointed. Despite the creed, what they were doing was socially forbidden, after all. And it had not yet been long.

"And he _daydreams_, you can see his mind visibly wandering, even when pressed by a blade, like a sun-touched _cretino_," Mario muttered another string of imprecations under his breath, vile enough to rival Rosa in her foulest of moods. "He is frightened of the blade. The best I can do," Mario concluded bitterly, "Is teach him which end is the right end!"

Rosa covered her mouth, though her eyes danced with suppressed mirth. Antonio, however, continued to sit calmly, legs crossed primly on the crate. "Well then, at least teach him how to defend himself. Or perhaps something meant to be non-lethal. I remind you," he said, a little more loudly, when Mario huffed, "That he is a close friend of Ezio's, and his life has already been threatened more than once. We cannot be there all the time for him. _And_ he is the one who decodes all of your precious Codex pages."

"_I_ can read the Codex pages," Mario said sullenly.

"What about the hidden blades and the formulae also encoded?" Antonio smiled benevolently. "Can you build those? Or the other tools that Ezio has used so successfully? Could you have built a flying machine that could strike into the heart of the most fortified palazzo in Venezia? You _assassino_ need Leonardo, even if he was not _Ezio's_ _friend_."

"I know! I know, _cazzo_, I _know!_" Ezio's uncle fixed Leonardo with a baleful stare. Stocky, running to bulk in his age instead of fat, his angular face rife with old, spidery white scars and his thinning hair swept back over a crow's peak, Mario Auditore cut an intimidating figure, even when not red with anger. "Ezio could teach him."

"Ezio is busy," Antonio said smoothly. "Also, he can afford few worries, which is why we decided to persuade Leonardo to take lessons privately. _And_, you are here for a week in place of Ezio for his contract, because he has been delayed indefinitely in Firenze, are you not?"

"I understand," Mario hunched his shoulders, as though being asked to do himself bodily harm rather than teach a new student for a time. "You want this kept from Ezio, then Ezio will not hear it from me. But my _nipote_ has his ways of finding things out, and you will not keep this from him forever."

"_Grazie_, Mario," Leonardo said warily, as Mario stooped to pick up his blade.

"If you will not turn your blade on another, then you should at least learn how to defend," Mario said stiffly, "And perhaps, when you are better, I will teach you how to disarm. There are places you can attack another that will not kill him or do lasting harm… you, _figlio di puttana_, Antonio, I _cannot_ believe what I am doing. I am an assassin! Why am I teaching someone how _not_ to kill?"

"It's a favor to your beloved _nipote_," Antonio shrugged. "Think of it as a birthday present."

"Why do you know when his birthday is?" Mario asked, suspicious. "Ezio has always told me it was irrelevant, when I asked."

"I've been to your villa in Monteriggioni," Antonio pointed out. "I asked the Lady Claudia."

"What! Claudia has never told me anything about Ezio. Claudia, bless her father's soul, does not speak to her uncle." The old assassin looked aggrieved. "And I have not been anything but another father to her! Why would she talk to a common thief like you? Did you charm her with your silver tongue? She is a sweet and innocent child! How dare you, _bastardo_?"

Antonio coughed, as if to hide a burp of laughter. "That may be, perhaps she was simply in a good mood when I spoke to her. _So_, if you can keep your temper and teach Leonardo, I will tell you later, in confidence."

"_Vaffanculo!_ You are a scheming snake," Mario seemed to make as if to throw down his blade again, but merely glared at the hilt in indignation. "_Bene, bene, va bene!_ I will teach Leonardo. And then you will tell me about this conversation with Claudia. And _then_ you will swear to me never to go near my niece again, or I will kill you."

Rosa aimed a swift, vicious kick at Antonio's shoulder that made the thief flinch. "Well done, great leader Antonio. Now we have two assassins after our hides."

II

Mario was a difficult taskmaster, but an efficient one, accepting without question or resentment the fact that Leonardo could not always be there for lessons and driving him hard when he was. Leonardo could see why Ezio always referred to his uncle with a mixture of amusement, exasperation and deep affection.

After the first two sessions, spent mostly vilifying Leonardo's ancestry, his ability, his intelligence and, when Mario was out of relevant phrases, the world and Antonio in general, Mario seemed to warm to him a little. Perhaps it was because the old assassin was curious about his nephew's life, outside of the villa; Antonio had mentioned that save where there was pressing business, the _assassini_ seemed to be engaged in their own businesses, with Ezio taking up the quiet contracts and Mario leading mercenary gangs.

After the third session, Antonio deemed his and Rosa's presences at the training sessions unnecessary, and now only a couple of thieves stayed at the courtyard to observe them.

"Better," Mario said gruffly, when Leonardo managed to block a flurry of stabs with only a nick to his shoulder. "At least the thieves have thought to have you exercise. In a month's time you may even be just below average."

"_Grazie_, Mario," Leonardo said dryly.

On one hand, he was disappointed that Ezio had been detained in Firenze; on the other hand, Leonardo's daily regimen, as dictated by Rosa, was beginning, slowly, to pay off. He still could not climb, but he could now manage a few basic coin tricks, training his dexterity, and he could _almost_ traverse a quarter of the tripboards in the thieves' guildroom without Rosa hearing him. Also, being fitter felt… better. He slept better, and even his art was slowly improving.

He would have to investigate this further at a later date. Perhaps diet also had a cause. Perhaps there was even some relation to immunity to sickness-

"Leonardo! _Cazzo, vaffanculo_, no matter what I teach you, in battle you will simply daydream and someone will kill you and be done with it." Mario snapped his fingers together sharply before his nose, startling Leonardo out of his reverie. "Lift your blade! We start again, like I told you! The enemy feints, here, like this… you dodge, no, no, more effort! You dodge, then the enemy _strikes_, and you counter-"

"_Scusi_-"

"Stop apologizing! _Porca fottuta_, you are _impossible_." Mario slapped his weak block aside, tapping the flat of his blade sharply on Leonardo's shoulder. "Again! Your blade, you are holding it wrongly… fine. Sufficient. Start. How did you even meet Ezio anyway?"

"Lady Maria commissioned… _scusi_… some pieces from me. Ezio picked them up with her. Later, he asked me… _scusi!_ To fix the hidden blade. Based on the schematic in a scroll that he found along with the broken weapon. While he slept, I analysed the schematic and repaired the blade on the spot. After that, I built the second one with the other plans, later."

"You are a genius," Mario said, with grudging admiration. "Giovanni and I have sought an engineer to construct the blade for _decades_, and you recreate it in the space of an afternoon. We had only the one blade, you see, and despite everything I said, Giovanni had always felt guilty that he had been the one to inherit it from our father."

"It is actually quite a simplistic, yet highly remarkable spring pressure mechanism," Leonardo winced as the flat of Mario's blade snaked past his juvenile guard and slapped his ribs. "Oh, _scusi_."

"Why are you apologizing for _that_?"

"Ah… you just seemed disappointed…" Leonardo raised his blade hurriedly as Mario snorted. "Again? So… I dodge, and then, oh… and that happens… but in any case, if you want a blade of your own, I will be… _scusi_, happy to build you one."

"I was never one for the silent kill," Mario said dismissively. "If you give me one, more than likely someday I will forget that it is on my wrist and cut off my own finger or slit my own wrist. _Cunn'e mamma tua_, dodge, man, _dodge_!"

"So… ah, that was a good one, when is Ezio's birthday?"

Mario frowned at him for a moment, then he snorted. "I do not know if what Antonio said was correct. I will check with Claudia."

"I thought she did not speak to you?"

"Well, perhaps she now does," Mario's frown had turned into a scowl, and the next flurry had enough force to numb his wrists.

"I was merely suggesting… that I could ask Ezio… or Claudia… ah, _scusi_," Leonardo found himself being pushed back towards the wall, concentrating the best he could with parries, managing even a dodge, then something metallic glanced off the flagstones by Mario's boot. A throwing knife, Leonardo realized, blinking dumbly, then letting out a yelp of surprise as Mario instantly thrust Leonardo behind him protectively, turning to face their attacker.

"I thought it was you, uncle. _Buona sera_," Ezio leapt nimbly down from rooftop to sill to the ground in one fluid movement. His hood shadowed his eyes for a moment, making his smile seem sinister in the shadows from the flickering torches set against the walls, and then Ezio pushed back the hood, his expression clearly curious.

"Leonardo? What are you doing here?"

"Ah… I…"

"You cause great upheavals in Venezia and give little thought to the safety of your friends," Mario interrupted gruffly. "I spoke with Antonio and we agreed that your friend Leonardo should at least learn how to defend himself. Seeing as he is useful to you."

Leonardo felt an instant gratitude to the old assassin. Even if Mario hadn't known that he had other motives, this made as good an explanation as any. "I, ah, am not a good student."

"_I_ offered to teach you," Ezio observed, his voice pointedly neutral, as Leonardo awkwardly sheathed the borrowed rapier and handed it to one of the thieves lingering at the scaffolding. Grimacing, Leonardo groped for a reply. Ezio had indeed offered, but Leonardo had pled schedule, again and again, until the matter had simply been dropped. Then, it had not seemed important.

"You do not have time, _nipote_. Better to let an old assassin do what he can," Mario strode forward and clapped Ezio on the shoulder. "Antonio and Rosa are more persuasive than you, perhaps."

"No doubt." Ezio's tone seemed mildly placated, but the sharp look he shot Leonardo over his uncle's shoulder made the painter slump. "I will escort Leonardo home, uncle, and speak to you further on the morrow."

"You are back in Venezia faster than we expected."

"The mission did not take as long as Lorenzo predicted," Ezio shrugged, clearly impatient to be away. Sensing this, Mario nodded, stepping out of the way.

"Later then, _nipote_."

"Come, Leonardo." Ezio walked quickly away from the enclave, his hood drawn back down over his eyes. He held his left arm a little stiffly, Leonardo observed, as they stepped out into the slow human traffic of night in Venezia.

"You are injured?"

"It is a trifle." Ezio said, irritable. "You could have asked me to teach you. I could have made time to teach. Did my uncle hurt you? Sometimes he is a difficult teacher."

"No, I am unhurt. He is a good teacher. I am just a poor student."

"Hah! He is an old, ill-tempered lion. You were not as bad as you believe. I was worse when I started, all anger, no skill, no patience. At least you try to listen." Ezio paused, then he turned his head, just enough for Leonardo to observe an impish grin against the edge of his hood. "Why do you keep apologizing? Is it a tactic? I could see my uncle becoming increasingly angry. It looked as though he might even do you harm, near the end, so I had to make my presence known."

"It is just… the words just leave me without thought," Leonardo looked down at his boots, embarrassed. "I am a poor student."

Ezio chuckled warmly, and Leonardo allowed himself to relax. Sometimes he could not entirely predict the course of Ezio's own volcanic tempers: not that Ezio had ever raised a hand against him, but Leonardo did not like conflict, let alone with Ezio, in any form.

"Do not learn from Mario any longer. Learn from me. I will teach you. I will spend more time in Venezia."

"Lorenzo-"

"Lorenzo has other assassins." Ezio waited as they turned a corner, into a quieter street off the main thoroughfare, checking quickly around them for guards, then he reached for Leonardo, squeezing his fingers gently with his bared hand, frowning and rubbing his fingers carefully over the pads of his thumb and forefinger, turning the palm up into the dim candlelight from a lamp on a terrace. "Blisters. How long have you been learning the blade?"

"Since Mario arrived in Venezia." The blisters were not entirely from the training sessions, but Leonardo kept his counsel. "Rosa has a salve."

Ezio exhaled loudly. "_Mi disipace_, Leonardo. The things I have brought upon you."

"A few blisters, some bruises? If I could stay by your side in love, Ezio, this is the least that I am willing to endure," Leonardo said earnestly, stroking the ridges of Ezio's knuckles with his abused thumb, hoping to alleviate his lover's clear sense of guilt.

Ezio blinked at him, and in the lamplight, Leonardo could see the assassin's cheeks pink gently; then he leaned in, his lips brushing Leonardo's ear, the purr tickling his cheek and quickening the beat of his heart. "Let us walk faster. Now I _truly_ need to kiss you."

III

"There, you see? Nothing to worry about," Antonio said pleasantly, when Ezio was called away again, this time also with Mario, on urgent business in Firenze. "Ezio suspected nothing."

"But it was close," Rosa disagreed sharply. "If Mario had not said what he had, we would all have been found out, and then murdered in our sleep."

"Are you _still_ concerned about that?" Antonio shook his head slowly. "It was all planned carefully, Rosa. Mario said exactly what he was meant to say, and all without coaching."

The thieves were lounging in chairs beside Leonardo's workdesk as he painted, alternatively squabbling between themselves or attempting to squabble with Leonardo. It had been a pleasant handful of days in Ezio's company, however, and Leonardo was in a good enough mood to tolerate his disruptive friends.

"So Ezio is going to teach you? That solves all of our problems," Rosa leant her elbows carefully on the desk, so as not to touch any paint or canvas.

"He is _trying_ to teach me. It is not working," Leonardo said mildly.

"Why?"

"We, ah, we seem to be easily distracted." Leonardo fought his blush.

Ezio had gotten as far as attempting to teach him a counter attack before growing frustrated, like his uncle; save that unlike Mario, Ezio's response to becoming exasperated with Leonardo was to corner him against a wall and kiss him breathless. It did not make for much useful or lengthy teaching.

"I knew it." Rosa pushed her face into her palms. "You are hell bent on murdering your friends. Why not just accept that you are bad at thievery and bad at being an _assassino_ and return to making beautiful art?"

"I _am_ bad at thievery and being an assassin. The point was not to get better but to _understand_." Leonardo delicately painted the arch of an eyebrow, his eyes fixed on his work. "I think I am learning."

"He is walking a mile in Ezio's shoes, Rosa."

"I do not see what the shoes have to do with it," Rosa retorted at Antonio. "My woman's intuition tells me that it is simply because Leonardo is not having sex."

Leonardo was thankful that at that point, he had been in the process of washing out his paintbrush rather than working on the canvas. "_Rosa_."

"Whatever the underlying reasoning-"

"_Antonio!_"

"-I think it is commendable to want to understand your lover," Antonio continued blandly. "And to try to actively improve the relationship. Usually in _logico_, however. But if friend Leonardo believes that he is learning something useful to his ends, then as friends we should continue to help him."

There was a sharp staccato rap on the windows, above, and the thieves froze warily. Antonio glanced at Rosa, and then he relaxed, even as Rosa edged to the stairway and began to creep upwards, a hand going to the hilt of the dagger hidden in her boot.

Leonardo frowned, hesitating, but continued to loudly wash out his brush at Antonio's urgent gesture, even as Rosa disappeared out of sight. There was an exclamation of surprise, then Rosa's irritated snort. "_Dio mio_, Troy, could you not have announced your presence? _Figlio de puttana, _if your back was turned I would have killed you!"

"Never mind that. Carlo intercepted this package, Rosa, at the Piazza, when he was cutting purses." Troy's voice seemed to carry a note of urgency. "I took a look inside it. See the seal! It is-"

"Give me that." A flutter of paper, then a hiss of shocked anger, and Rosa began to swear, in a loud, harsh string of vituperate invective that made even Antonio blink hastily. Frowning, Antonio rose to his feet, circling up the stairwell, Leonardo at his heels.

"Rosa? What is the matter?"

"This!" Rosa thrust a set of scrolls at Antonio, red with fury. "It has not yet been sealed. _Porca troia! _It is a draft. Troy, you and Carlo, and any other free at this time, you must tail the _bastardo_ who had this. Search the Piazza. Put a lookout on the source."

"We are searching. We do not believe the courier will be missed, not yet. And he has not noticed the loss of his scroll. Marco is following him at a distance, to see where he intends to be."

Antonio unrolled the scroll, and behind his shoulder, with a sinking heart, Leonardo recognized the legal writ, with its sprawling, formal script in an anonymous statement of claim, of sodomy, and worse, his _name_ as the accused.

"Again," he whispered, color draining from his cheeks.

[tbc – haha, being a lawyer, I have always wanted to write a bit on the above sort of theme. Time to introduce OCs! Or mangled historical figures. Not that I've managed to locate any names for 15th century legal practitioners.]


	4. The Second World 3

[A/N: Whoops, error made in naming one of the characters -.-, editing all previous versions of fic now. Teaches me to just consult wikia by way of research! Good thing no one noticed…? :D /sweats Please alert me if there are any mistakes that jump out to you while reading, and no, I do not use betas. ;3 I quickly get bored of a story when I have to submit to be beta'd.]

The Second World

Chapter 3

I

Antonio snapped the scroll shut and tossed it in a flurry of crackling paper to Troy. "Rosa, take Leonardo downstairs, make him sit down and drink a glass of water. Troy, take this to Alesio and his team."

"Alesio's team? You are forging it?" Rosa asked dubiously, though she grabbed Leonardo by the arm, ignoring how he sagged against her grip. His knees felt nerveless, his vision dizzy… the _suicide_… "Leonardo! Do not make me slap you. Concentrate!"

"Make two… no, three copies. Add names to this one, next to Leonardo's. Botticelli. Perugino."

"Antonio, what-" Rosa frowned, but Antonio cut in, pacing in a tight circle in the room, his brow furrowed in thought.

"The second scroll, the names of all the senior _giudici_ in Venezia. The third scroll, Lorenzo de' Medici, Duke Ludovico il Moro, and the King of France. The fourth scroll, the Barbarigo siblings, those who are still alive. Accuse _all_ of them of sodomy and unnatural acts against God."

"While Alesio does this, have our man in the Doge's Court find a writ with this lawyer's signature and seal. Purloin it and forge the seal and signature on the writs. Lodge the completed writs, once it is all done. And then, we shall see where the cards fall. Make haste!"

"_Subito_," Troy said, all but scrambling out of the window in his haste. Rosa began to tug Leonardo down the stairwell, gently, while Antonio strolled behind them, unnaturally calm and composed; Leonardo could do nothing but stare blankly at his friends, grasping futilely at vagrant thoughts.

"Good! That is a good plan, but it will only buy time from whatever _bastardo_ is doing this," Rosa all but forced Leonardo into a chair, occupying herself with pouring water into a glass, then clapping it before him. "And you. _Dio mio_, drink. Breathe."

"Time is what we need to buy," Antonio continued to pace, scratching absently at his chin as he did so, his eyes faraway. "Have Sister Teodora and her girls put an ear to the street. We need to find the mastermind."

"It is," Leonardo managed, a little hoarsely, "A remarkable miracle of coincidence to intercept the scroll."

"Hardly. We have had thieves watching the Barbarigo and their known dogs ever since we have had the luck to be acquainted with Ezio. The couriers they use, we often follow, or waylay. Sometimes the message is taken and replaced, all in the space of an afternoon." Antonio said dismissively. "And we bribe many, of course. We need to find out who sent this one."

"That _avvocato bastardo_-"

"The lawyer's reputation will be under siege late on the morrow, and reputation is the most important asset to a lawyer. He will be busy, and the other _avvocati_ will think twice before affixing their names to such a writ. This way we discourage other such methods of attack… at least for now. No doubt they will try again, or try something else. Something else, more likely, since this will be all of parody and popular entertainment once the heralds put their ears to it."

"We could send word to Ezio," Rosa had been circling the room quietly, occasionally peering out of the slats in the windows for any eavesdroppers, her head tilted, until finally, apparently satisfied, she turned a spare chair around and straddled it, her arms folded against the back of the chair, her chin resting on her wrists.

"He is on a ship to Tuscany. The messenger will not catch him. And even so-"

"I do not want him involved," Leonardo drained the glass, taking a deep breath, the panic, the fear and pain ebbing slowly, at least for now. "I must solve this myself."

"You," Rosa began angrily, "Are a prideful _cretino_-"

"No, no, Leonardo is right. _We_," Antonio stressed, with a sidelong, pointed stare at Leonardo, "Must solve this without Ezio. Ezio cannot turn tail back to Venezia whenever there is a problem."

"This is _Leonardo_," Rosa pointed out, her chin set. "I should think it is an _important_ enough _problema_ for the _grande_ _assassino_ to come back to Venezia for his _caro_."

"And what if he does? What if the Barbarigo and the Borgia notice the pattern? Right now Leonardo is safe because of his patrons, _and_ because the Barbarigo and Borgia think him only a friend of Ezio's, _one of many friends_. If they believe he is something more, Leonardo will not live another night in Venezia, or worse, captured as bait."

Antonio paused for a moment in his stride, picking at his sleeves, then turning tightly on his heel to pace again. "We ourselves must be wary. Find out which men, in our organization, know about Ezio and Leonardo."

"We have been careful," Rosa sat up sharply, her eyes narrowing. "It should just be the two of us. Maybe Ugo. Who do you suspect?"

"No one. Not at this point, ever since Ezio purged the guild. Nevertheless, we must be sure. It is too late to downplay the matter since we have put a guard on this place and no other. Stress the _friendship_ if Leonardo is mentioned. It should be difficult. The flying machine was clearly of Leonardo's make. Better to be thought of as the _assassino's_ engineer rather than anything truly ruinous. I must also speak to Teodora."

"I have not been careful," Leonardo hung his head. Ezio had been right, after all, in Carnivale. Perhaps they had been recognized. Perhaps someone had seen them on the rooftops, or overlooked the courtyard where Ezio had been attempting to 'teach' him bladework. "I am a fool."

"Love makes fools of all men and women," Rosa said dismissively, obviously concentrating on the problem at hand. "So the _figli de puttana, _theseBorgia or the Barbarigo, must be looking for the weakest point of Ezio's defense, and we must prove that it is not Leonardo. That is your reasoning, Antonio?"

"Exactly. We must strike fast, and be merciless. And if we fail, then you must leave Venezia. Return to Firenze. The word on the street is that Lorenzo wishes to send you as ambassador to the Duke of Milan."

"He does," Leonardo admitted, unsurprised that Antonio had known of the inner workings of the Medici Court. "But Ezio has no business in Milan. All his contracts either concern the holdings of the Medici or the conflicts in Venezia. And as to Firenze, I… I prefer my workshop here."

If he moved to Milan, he would see Ezio even _less_ frequently, and now, even now, the thought was unbearable.

"A nice, big workshop becomes a nice, big tomb for a _cretino_ who does not listen." Rosa pointed out bluntly.

"And where else would I meet interesting people like the both of you?" Leonardo decided to resort to flattery. Antonio's quick smirk indicated that he was not susceptible, but Rosa chuckled, leaning her cheek against her palm, almost coquettish, though her eyes remained hard.

In truth, Firenze held poor memories, some of which he had long thought to be healed. The ugly shock, just moments ago, had proved him wrong. Still, he could not always rely on others, not even Antonio and Rosa. Deciding firmly that self-pity was not constructive, Leonardo squared his shoulders and folded his arms.

"What do you want me to do, Antonio? Surely I can help, somehow."

"Cultivate your patrons, your other friends, outside of our world. Perhaps you will hear something. After all, perhaps this is not a Barbarigo plot, after all. Perhaps you have a rival, or some enemy. You have been accused of this before, after all, if anonymously, and this before you had ever met Ezio. It may be this former enemy. Or it may be an enemy of the Medici."

"Or someone might have seen…" Leonardo said weakly, too overwhelmed by the possibilities.

"Seen? Seen what? _Porca troia, _you are like a monk in your habits. You go to Teodora's to have _tea_," Rosa rolled her eyes. "If you tell me you have not bedded Ezio _I_ personally believe you, and I like to believe the worst of people."

"Rosa is right. Sodomy is a serious charge and it is a specific act. The charge is so serious in fact, that as you no doubt are intimately aware, it is very difficult to prove, even if there is compelling circumstantial evidence. It is a desperate gamble. That is one reason why I am not entirely concerned that it is a Barbarigo move. It is at the same time too subtle and yet too risky."

"Unless the point was not Leonardo, but to flush Ezio into the open." Rosa said thoughtfully.

"But the conspirator must be sure that Ezio will come for him. That means he must be reasonably sure that Ezio has special regard for Leonardo. This narrows down our search not to only a handful of antagonists but also hints that there is a wolf in our midst."

"_Cazzo! _If being insane enough to jump off a tower in a contraption that Leonardo had built is not an indication of 'special regard', then, please, Maestro Antonio, enlighten me," Rosa's tone dripped sarcasm. "Besides, _Lorenzo_ favors Leonardo."

"Actually," Leonardo corrected hesitantly, "He favors Botticelli."

Both thieves ignored him. "Lorenzo aside, it should have been simpler by far to kidnap Leonardo, if a trap was planned."

"You say Leonardo has a lot of patrons. No doubt several of them might deign to rescue him, if only to get their money's worth." Rosa encompassed the multiple unfinished works on canvas still lying on various surfaces in the workshop with a disdainful wave of her arm. "A kidnapping would not help."

"So then it must either be a ghost from your past, Leonardo, or perhaps the Barbarigo are growing desperate. Either way, listen carefully the next time you are at Court, or in the Piazzo. If you hear anything unusual, report back to me." Antonio squeezed Leonardo's shoulder reassuringly. "Get some rest. We will post a watch on your workshop. Rosa and I have to check on Alesio."

"_Grazie_, Rosa, Antonio. Again, you have saved me. I will send word if I hear anything of note."

"_Buona notte_, Leonardo. Try to rest." Antonio led Rosa up the stairs, and then, there was the sound of the windows creaking open, and then closed. Leonardo ran his fingers roughly through his hair, allowing himself a wounded, harsh moan, for old grief, for uncertain fear, for fresh, hopeless despair, and sat staring at his palms beside the flickering candle.

II

The cards, when they fell, as Antonio predicted, became merely a general source of amusement for the public, even in the learned company of men whom Leonardo was accustomed to meet at the Piazza. Today the philosophers' ranks were bolstered by the presence of a sleek, thin youth with piercingly intelligent eyes who had introduced himself as Niccolò Machiavelli.

"His father, _Messer _Machiavelli, is a friend of mine," _Professore_ Matteo Infessura of the University of Padua said, a little apologetically. The plump _professore_, resplendent in rich doublets and vests, his thick fingers beringed in gems, seemed an imposing bear next to the slim youth, plainly dressed in a simple dark vest and pale shirt. "His father is on business in the city and as such has tasked me to look after him for the afternoon."

"And you decide to bore him with the conversation of old men – Leonardo excluded?" Marsilio Ficino, the tutor of Lorenzo de' Medici, was a hunched, wrinkled elder, his face in folds of sagging wrinkles, his eyes perpetually narrowed.

"I enjoy the conversation of old men, so by association, I hope I may be seen as endowed with their wisdom," Leonardo said, amused. Infessura and Ficino's squabbles were practiced and careworn with the age of association, and oft proved enlightening, at least when it drifted into true discourse.

Infessura chuckled, seating himself heavily on a bench and waving Machiavelli to do the same. "You are in much association today, Leonardo, if the chaos at the Doge's Court is anything to be believed."

"I am honored to be associated with Botticelli and Perugino, _professore_." Leonardo managed a half bow, still seated where he was. "Though, admittedly, in rather unusual circumstances."

"This sort of perverse villainy is not new to you, however." Ficino observed sympathetically. "It must be upsetting."

"No. Men have tried to ruin me before, in rather unusual ways. Often I have the Medici to thank when such men fail." Leonardo inclined his head as modestly as he could, hoping that nothing gave away his increasing heartbeat. "I am an illegitimate commoner's child, suddenly rich from the vagaries of luck. It does not on occasion seem to prove endearing, oddly enough."

"Luck? All of Italia knows of your talent, Leonardo," Infessura scoffed. "That painting our Università commissioned you to create, it is _magnifico_, transcendent! It was worth every penny. Better than anything Botticelli or Perugino could create. Do not pay any heed to the envious."

"The writs seem to be an odd prank," Machiavelli observed, his voice measured and confident for one so young. "The _avvocato_ whose name and signature appears on the writs, of course, has denied his involvement. He claims that malefactors are out to destroy him."

"That would seem to be the case, young Machiavelli," Ficino agreed. "But it is so elaborate to just be a prank. It seems to be more of a warning. I do not like the fact that Lord Lorenzo was mentioned, especially with the very men with whom he is attempting to cement alliance. It must be a warning, a subtle one, made simply to look like a prank."

"No doubt those three men are best placed to defend themselves," Machiavelli pointed out. "Unlike the others."

"Yes, Leonardo. You must be more careful. You live by yourself, and you are a rich man. That may be seen as inviting trouble." Infessura nodded ponderously. "And you are far from your most powerful patrons, the Medici."

"I am not, nor was I ever their favorite, sadly. And Venezia was a nice change. Perhaps when I feel restless again I will ask Lord Lorenzo to transfer me to Milan. He has asked me, once. But it will be difficult to leave beautiful Venezia." _Among other things_.

"Favorite or not, Lord Lorenzo has only your safety in mind, Leonardo," Ficino said quietly. "And Venezia is beautiful, but it belongs to the Barbarigo."

III

Leonardo was surprised to see Machiavelli again, in Antonio's office, standing unobtrusively behind an older man, clearly his father or at least a relative from the striking resemblance in ascetic features, thin hair also combed severely back against a domed scalp, eyes narrow and keen. The older man was also similarly dressed, in simple, dark clothes, well made but clearly inexpensive. He rose from his seat when Leonardo entered the room, but waited politely for Antonio to introduce them.

Rosa, Leonardo noted, was not around, and something must have shown in his expression. "Antonio. My apologies, I was delayed by a patron."

"No matter." Antonio smiled, rising to greet him. "Rosa is away on business. This is a mutual friend of mine and Mario Auditore, _Messer_ Bernardo di Niccolò Machiavelli, and his son, Niccolò di Bernardo dei Machiavelli. _Messer_ Bernardo, Leonardo da Vinci."

"I have met _Messer's_ son, in the Piazza. He struck me at once as a most learned and well-spoken young man," Leonardo smiled warmly at Antonio's guests, though his eyes remained questioning, watching Antonio for a cue. Instead of explaining, however, Antonio sat back in his seat and motioned Leonardo to take the spare chair.

"I am not in the business of exposition, Leonardo, so you must forgive me if I speak bluntly. Mario Auditore said that you have some skill in fixing difficult things. Is this true?" Like his son, Bernardo spoke in precise, calculated tones.

"It would depend on what I am asked to fix, _Messer_," Leonardo said politely, his interest instantly piqued.

"Then perhaps we may help each other. Antonio has informed me of your predicament, and I am a _dottore_ of Law. I have other business in Venezia that call for my presence for some time. During this time, I will be happy to assist you in any other such… predicaments." Bernardo shot Antonio a severe look. "Do refrain from such outrageously flamboyant methods of diversion, Antonio. The Doge's Court was in a most unacceptable state of chaos. There are better, subtler methods."

"I… I hope that I may be of assistance in turn," Leonardo said weakly, stunned by Antonio's resourcefulness, in pulling thread after thread until a rogue weave was transformed into the thief's own advantage.

Sensing this, the thief smirked. "There are many _dottores_ of Law in Venezia, Leonardo, and a handful of which I even trust. It is however of good luck that _Messer_ Bernardo came to Venezia to seek your aid, amongst his other businesses, when Mario sent him word recently that you could fix interesting blades."

At a nod from Bernardo, Niccolò rose from his seat, taking a pouch from his belt and carefully emptying it onto Antonio's desk. Unlike Giovanni's blade, however, this one seemed older, rusted along the edges, the bracer rotting in sections.

"It was not kept in the best of care," Bernardo said unnecessarily, "As I had never been one to use it. There are other methods I prefer. My third son Niccolò, however, has shown an interest. Can you fix it?"

"It may be better for me to salvage what I can and build another. I can have it made for you in two days." Leonardo said confidently, carefully taking the irreparably damaged blade in his hands and studying it. It was of an older make than Giovanni's, a more primitive design, easily improved. "Three days, if the materials are difficult to find. But I believe I can manage."

"Then I am in your debt." Bernardo looked to Niccolò. "As I have told you, Niccolò. You have learnt as much as you can from Mario. The rest, you must learn from Antonio."

"I understand, father." Niccolò said, taking the bracer back from Leonardo and fitting it back in the pouch.

Unlike Ezio in his youth, however, Leonardo did not sense the primal predator in this man, but there was something of a hunter, trained, deadly, but sleekly hidden. Still, the sense of déjà vu made Leonardo abruptly wonder where Ezio was, what he was doing. Whether Ezio too thought of him, when they were apart. The notion was sobering. Ezio was handsome and young, and Leonardo had observed him flirting easily with women, in public, so natural and confident that it did not seem feigned. Still, he trusted. Perhaps he was more a fool than he thought.

"… Bernardo will do what he can in the Doge's Court," Antonio was speaking, leafing through a book on his desk. "Us thieves and Niccolò will try and narrow the search. Leonardo, did you hear anything useful today?"

"No, no. It seems as though most of the public who do not believe it a prank think it is a hidden threat to Lorenzo de' Medici."

"And so you have become the background painting, rather than the fore," Antonio said, pleased. "See, Bernardo, there is some use in being outrageous and flamboyant. Appearance is everything. If one is the focus of a firestorm, one must simply endeavor to ensure that someone else, instead, becomes the focus."

Bernardo snorted, with a sad shake of his head, but Leonardo noticed that Niccolò had straightened, his eyes alert. This did not pass Antonio's observation, either; the thief let out a short chuckle as he turned back to his book. "Do you know how long you will be in Venezia, Bernardo?"

"Perhaps three months, unless there are any eventualities. My son will linger further."

"Then we are decided, gentlemen." Antonio clapped his hands abruptly together, making Leonardo flinch. "_Messer_ Bernardo, fear not, your son is in good hands."

"I hope so, Antonio. _Grazie_ again for your kind offer. And _buona notte_, Leonardo, it was a pleasure to meet you," Bernardo rose from his seat, clasping first Antonio's hands, then Leonardo's, grasping his son's shoulders tightly, then nodding again to Antonio before he left. In his father's absence, Niccolò seemed a little less self-assured, his eyes darting between Antonio and Leonardo uncertainly.

"Give Leonardo the pouch, and meet Ugo outside. He may have some tasks for you." Antonio's words were practiced, as though harboring fledgling assassins was normal enough for the thief. Niccolò nodded, handed Leonardo the pouch, bowed, and left the office on silent feet.

"Quiet boy," Antonio commented, when they were alone.

"He spoke well enough in the Piazzo."

"Of course. His is clearly an intellect to watch. And hopefully, a fair enough skill to match it. I will set him to your matter, in part. Niccolò is no Ezio, but the _assassini_ have methods of discerning friend from foe, finding their targets, that normal men do not. That should prove useful."

"You seem well versed in their ways," Leonardo said, not without a little envy, and Antonio laughed, though he did not look up from his book, turning a page.

"I too, have my ways."

[tbc – Machiavelli's appearance in the game felt rather random to me.]


	5. The Second World 4

[A/N: The synopsis for the Assassin's Creed book is out, and it has Leonardo. Rejoice…! O_o ./technology/gamesblog/2009/nov/06/assassins-creed-renaissance Also, if you have not finished the game, stop reading! :3 a lot of this story will seem odd or disingenuous without knowing the context.]

The Second World

Chapter 4

I

Leonardo fixed the blade within two days, having to rebuild just about all of it save for parts of the spring mechanism from scratch, specially casting pieces from scratch. It was fascinating work, and Leonardo often wondered which mind had first conceived of such an instrument, decades or even centuries ago; so simple and yet so intricate.

He spent the third day setting a filigree of silver over the new leather, in stylized wings, and then, remembering abruptly that the weapon was _not_, in fact, meant to be a piece of art, delivered it to Antonio's palazzo with some degree of abashment.

The thief seemed amused, tracing the silverwork with a thumb, while they were seated at his desk enjoying a pot of caffa. "If Ezio sees this he will be most envious, _amico mio_."

"That… that was _not_ my intention." Leonardo blushed.

"Oh no, you are a consummate artisan. Everything must be _perfetto_." Antonio set the bracer gingerly down on his desk. "Unfortunately Niccolò is not available at present, or he would like to give you his thanks himself, no doubt."

"Perhaps it would be best if I was not seen with Niccolò," Leonardo said cautiously, Antonio's teasing having struck a chord. "I, ah, after all-"

"Yes, yes. Ezio is most possessive," Antonio chuckled, unrolling a map over his desk. "One would think he had never been so loved before."

"That is _most_ unlikely." Leonardo leaned forward to take a tentative look at the map. Areas of Venezia were circled in red, some in blue. "What is this?"

"My war here in Venezia is against the Barbarigo. Here are my skirmishes. Niccolò is currently engaged _here_, searching for co-conspirators," Antonio pointed at the bazaar, "The assassin's sixth sense is a most interesting phenomenon. Someday you might want to discuss it with Ezio. I would like to hear your thoughts on the subject."

"A sixth sense, Antonio?"

"They can 'see' who their targets are, even without seeing their faces, sense who are enemies, who are allies, hidden doors, useful objects. It is, if I understand Mario, not a trait that runs consistently in the _assassino_ bloodlines. _Messer_ Bernardo, for example, does not have the 'gift', but his son, Niccolò, does – though not to Ezio's extent."

"Ezio has this sense?"

"How else do you think he is so successful an _assassino_?" Antonio was studying the docks, twirling a quill feather dexterously in the fingers of his right hand. "Ezio's gift is far stronger than any of the other _assassini_, Mario has told me. To his _nipote_, it is as natural as sight, as breathing. He can use it whenever he likes, with no ill effects. Niccolò, on the other hand, tires quickly, and Mario can only use it once a day."

"So it is not something passive, but something they choose to use." Leonardo said, surprised. "Like a second sight."

"Yes, just like a second sight. Mario said it was because the _assassini_ families are all 'children from two worlds', though I think it mysticism rather than good scientific reason. Still, it is a curious trait."

It was, and it was something else to speak to Ezio about, yet another glimpse into another world that he still barely understood. "Thank you for the information, Antonio."

"It was not kindly given, friend Ezio," Antonio said wryly. "Ezio's gift will make him a great man – a great _killer_. It is a curious woman – or man – who would accept that."

"I do not believe him an evil man," On his lap, Leonardo's hands curled into his breeches, as if on instinct, instantly defensive.

"No, Ezio is a good man. That much is clear. But he is also a killer. That is the ultimate contradiction about the _assassini_, Leonardo. All of the _assassini_ are good men, men whose best intentions are for the skins of others other than their own. And yet, they are all killers; even young Niccolò will already have killed more men than you would be introduced to in a week."

"I understand," Leonardo dug his nails into his palms, and exhaled. "I do not accept that murder is ever necessary. And yet I love him. There are many things about Ezio to love."

"Love has its reasons that reason will never know," Antonio quipped, though he did not smile. "Perhaps Ezio is far more fortunate than even Rosa could have imagined."

"Speaking of Rosa, I have not seen her for a while." Leonardo changed the subject quickly, before he blushed.

"No," Antonio agreed, the feather flicking briefly over his chin, and then resting against his cheek. "Nor have I. She returned after _Messer _Bernardo took his leave, but she has gone again on another errand. Since then, I have heard no word. Still, she often disappears for days upon end before returning to the guild. It is her way. If you see her, however, tell her I _do_ need reports, now and then."

"I will do so."

"And, back to Niccolò, I would not entertain him more than you must. He is an ally to me, but not entirely an ally to you."

"What do you mean?" Leonardo asked, somewhat surprised. "Niccolò struck me as a most polite young man."

"His family, the Machiavelli, view the Medici as their most bitter enemies. They descended from a line that used to rule Firenze. Now, they do not have aspirations to a throne, but they have made their opinions known that Firenze would be better off as a republic."

"But, Messer Bernardo-"

"Oh, do not doubt an assassin's word. You have fixed the blade, he, in turn, will protect you in the Doge's court. But Niccolò is not beholden to you in any way. It would also be best for you not to mention him to Ezio."

"But Mario knows the family."

"I do not claim to understand the _assassini _and their affiliations," Antonio shrugged, "But Mario is an old man, set in his code. Ezio is not."

"_Va bene_, Antonio." Leonardo said doubtfully, a little confused. Ezio's world seemed somewhat more complicated than he had thought.

"Do not look so downhearted!" Antonio grinned, circling a spot near a church. "Word has reached me that news about the prank in the Doge's court is on the way to Firenze, where it would no doubt reach Lorenzo's ears. Perhaps you may even see your _caro_ within the month."

"And you could not have told me this at the beginning?" Leonardo sat up straight, a well of instinctive joy curling within him. It was so _soon. _Leonardo was used to Ezio being away for longer periods of time, weeks on end, with no letters in between. Perhaps this threat had its silver lining, after all.

"If I had, you would have stopped listening to me altogether from the beginning. As you are now." Antonio sighed, shaking his head in mock pity. "Go then. You are useless when you are this overjoyed."

II

Leonardo's good mood lasted for all of three days, spent tidying his workshop (within reason) and working on his commissions with fairly minimal (for Leonardo) procrastination. On the fourth day, however, while being engaged in sweeping out the bedroom in the evening, something landed heavily on his roof.

His heartbeat accelerating, Leonardo quickly hid the broom under the bed, fingers twisting together as he waited expectantly. A boot slid onto the sill, then another, then a slim, bloody frame dragged itself through the window and collapsed on the bed, clutching weakly at the right shoulder with an agonized hiss.

For a horrified moment, Leonardo thought _Ezio_, but soon recognized the sleek head and the narrowed eyes, now dilated with pain. "Niccolò?"

"_Mi dispiace_," Niccolò managed to gasp, "Antonio's… too far. Must warn you, the-"

"I will get water, and bandages," Leonardo cut in decisively. "Your wound will worsen if it is not cleaned now."

"No, _listen_, tomorrow, you must not-" Niccolò tried to sit up, blinked almost comically when his arm all but crumpled beneath him, and with a groan, passed out from the pain. Hastily, Leonardo shuttered his windows, and hurried to retrieve clean water and spare cloths.

Niccolò had been stabbed in the shoulder and high on the left leg, and he was pale from blood loss and agony; thankfully, however, neither was life threatening. Leonardo cleaned and bound what he could, until his sleeves were crimson with blood, the sheets ruined. Niccolò had slept through the whole procedure, with only the occasional moan to mark any sensation at all. The bracer on his right wrist was bloody to the hilt, his fingers caked in drying blood and gore.

With a sigh, Leonardo removed the bracer to clean it, wiping the blood off and taking especial care with the spring load mechanism. He was occupied in oiling the leather when a sharp rap sounded on the windowpanes.

Wildly, Leonardo looked around until he found the knife he had used to cut up the spare cloth into makeshift bandages, and picked it up with shaky fingers. "Who?"

"_Sono io_," The thief, Ugo, whispered urgently. "Leonardo? Are you all right?"

For a strained, breathless moment, Leonardo's mind spun quick with conspiracy. Could Ugo be trusted? Perhaps _he_ had been the one to hurt Niccolò. Perhaps by letting the wolf into the fold…

"Rosa is missing," Ugo continued, not noticing Leonardo's hesitation, and the thief sounded frightened. "Rosa is still missing and so is that young _assassino_ that Antonio took under his wing. Is she here?"

Reasonably, Leonardo told himself that a mere window pane and an unconscious _assassino_ would not stop a trained killer after Leonardo's own hide. "I have not seen her. Niccolò is here, he is hurt."

"So the blood on your sill, that was not hers." Ugo sounded relieved, then tired. "Clean that up quickly, Leonardo. It will draw attention. I will reinforce the guard here, discreetly, until Antonio arrives. I have sent him word. Do not fear."

"_Si_," Leonardo said, a little embarrassed at his sudden suspicions. He opened the panes, cautiously, but Ugo was already gone, a clatter on the roof all that was left of his presence. His fingers still trembling, Leonardo began to scrub the sill clean, wondering if he had done the right thing. He was growing paranoid, seeing shadows from all corners, thinking murder and the worst of his friends.

Perhaps the _assassini_ could only survive with their sanity intact in their world because of their second sight. Feeling discouraged and unsettled at this revelation, Leonardo took the soiled cloths to the ground floor for disposal, worried.

It looked like someone was hunting assassins. With this grim conclusion, sleep eluded Leonardo for the rest of the night.

Niccolò slept through the night and into the morning, exhausted, during which Antonio arrived with a pair of thieves, as unnaturally calm as ever. With a curt nod of his head, the thieves retreated back through the window, and Leonardo could hear them taking up places on the roof, further away and out of sight.

"I cannot move him yet. Perhaps tonight," Antonio said, looking Niccolò over. "_Mi dispiace_, but he should not have come here. I suppose the boy had no choice."

"Better that he came here than if he died on the street trying to reach your palazzo. He can rest here until he recovers," Leonardo was packing scrolls into a spare box, having already changed into his best clothes. "I myself must apologize, for leaving you here with an injured man. I cannot decline my invitation from House Venier without giving grievous insult. Lord Venier is sensitive."

"I will be here, and I know a little of injuries." Antonio himself seemed weary, sitting down on a chair beside the bed. "Go."

"What about Rosa? Have you found her?"

"No. But do not let that concern you. It will only be a matter of time." Antonio rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Somewhere, I may have made a miscalculation. Perhaps the gauntlet was thrown too soon, too obviously. _Cazzo!_ No, Leonardo, go to House Venier's villa. Keep your ears open."

It was a clear dismissal, but Antonio appeared to be under enough stress for Leonardo to take it graciously. "I will be back as soon as I can, with medicine."

"We have brought a sufficiency with us, but thank you. Do you need help with your paintings?"

"No, I will manage." Leonardo lifted the box, knowing he had to hurry. Zuan Venier was not known for his patience. Still, his conscience balked. "If you are sure that you can manage here…"

"_Si_, we are fine. Go, Leonardo." Antonio looked distant for a moment, then he smirked. "If Ezio appears and asks me why there is another man in your bed, I suppose I will have to explain."

Leonardo nearly dropped the paintings. "_Antonio!_"

III

The reception at the Villa de Venier was already well in progression when Leonardo arrived. The paintings were taken off his hands by an efficient manservant, while another led him deftly through the powdered, perfumed crowds of Venezian nobility in the vast ballroom hall of the Venier. Sunlight grazed velvets and lace through the archways facing the trimmed gardens, sluiced away at the edges with heavy maroon curtains. A violin quartet played at a sedate pace near the entrance, and servants in dark livery slid discreetly between guests with silver platters of refreshments and delicacies.

Lord Zuan Francesco Venier inclined his head graciously when Leonardo was introduced. The Co-Lord of Cerigo was bulky and tall, his square jaw wreathed in a luxuriant, graying beard, a rich moustache crowning his thin lips. A thick maroon cloak was draped over his left shoulder, and he wore a dark, almost military doublet and vest. "Leonardo. It is good to see you."

"Lord Venier." Leonardo bowed. "I am honored that you have requested for my presence."

"A few of my friends are interested in your art. Perhaps if you have the time for further commissions, you could be so kind as to take up a few? Without pressure, of course. We know of the myriad demands on your time."

"Again, it would be my honor." Leonardo said, trying his best to look interested in the face of last evening's lingering questions, particularly since Antonio had tasked him with information gathering. In truth, at present he had no time for commissions, and at present, had no interest, but perhaps the nobility had further insight on his current problems.

"Some of the commissions are… private. For private collections. It is, I understand it, to be a surprise for his Lordship's guests in his next soiree. As such, I have been asked if you would agree to a private meeting, right now, in my study with my guest."

"His identity, Lord Venier, if I may be so bold?"

"Ah, a secret," Lord Venier smiled, lowering his voice, while the men behind him nodded knowingly and murmured to themselves. "So illustrious a visitor is he that he wishes his presence kept from my guests to avoid untoward commotion. He is a busy man, you see, and cannot afford the time to do justice to my function."

"Of course, Lord Venier. If you would excuse me."

"_Addio_, Leonardo. Please, rejoin this little affair when you have finished discussing business."

Leonardo was used to such arrangements, allowing the servant to lead him to the back of the hall, to a discreet door set behind a curtain. Often his masterpieces were presents, or surprises to be unveiled to a hall of similarly illustrious guests. When his patrons wished to discuss concept and cost, they preferred to do so behind closed doors, in secret. He readied his usual routine, wearing his best smile and trying to look confident as the servant let him into the study room and closed it behind him, leaving him alone with Venier's guest.

The room was bare save for a square, mahogany table in the center, the edges filigreed with gold and silver. A man was seated at the table, tall, pale and thin, his beard and moustache a deep brown, his eyes small and cold. He was dressed richly, as befit a nobleman, rings on his fingers and a medallion over his tailored vests and flowing sleeves. There was an air of dissolute calculation about him, and his features seemed vaguely familiar, as he stood up from his seat, ignoring Leonardo's outstretched hand.

"Leonardo da Vinci."

"You have the advantage of me, Lord."

"My name," the man said, in his clipped, cold voice, "Is Pier Luigi Borgia."

The _Borgia_. Antonio's, _Rosa's_ warnings echoed in his mind, and Leonardo felt a sudden chill take hold of his spine; yet he steeled himself, and smiled ingratiatingly, as he would before a potential patron. "The Duke of Gandia. It is an honor to make your acquaintance, your Grace."

"Undoubtedly." The Duke of Gandia looked him over critically. "You are an artist, an engineer, a philosopher, an architect, a poet, a student of medicine, of botany, of nature, all at once?"

"I dabble in many things, your Grace."

"And yet," Pier Luigi continued, as though Leonardo had not spoken, "You were born illegitimate to a notary and a peasant woman, you received little to no formal education in your youth, you lived the first five years of your life in a hamlet. At fourteen, you were abruptly apprenticed to Verrocchio. My father was correct. It is most remarkable."

"I have been blessed with good fortune," Leonardo said, a little warily, stifling the instinct to back towards the door. The Duke of Gandia was unarmed, and he did not wish to give insult.

"I will be brief, Leonardo," The Duke said quietly. "There are certain… items, shall we say, in this world, that give men power, insight, inspiration. They are rare and scattered, but when found, their user is, as you would say, 'blessed with good fortune'."

"I do not understand, your Grace," Leonardo said, confused. "Items?"

"Sometimes – no, often, the user is unaware that he is a wielder. But when he becomes a wielder, he is often protected, from either side of a pair of warring factions that have existed through the ages, depending on his affiliation. Do you know of the Assassins and the Templar, Leonardo?"

Leonardo carefully controlled his expression, even as his heart jumped into his throat. "Your Grace, this conversation is, forgive me, most confusing."

"As equally confusing as the thieves who leap so quickly to an artist's defense?" Pier Luigi smiled thinly. "Yes, we know of Antonio and his ilk, these minions of the _assassini_, and their admittedly admirable counter to our little warning. We know also that you have had dealings with the _assassino_ known as Ezio Auditore; there were reports of a flying machine, on the night of Emilio Barbarigo's death. I know of no other man in Italia who could have conceived of such a device but you."

"Your accusations are most upsetting, your Grace," Leonardo said as flatly as he could.

"Do not dissemble any further. I wounded an _assassino_ last night who was spying on one of my… enterprises. He was young, but he had one of those hidden blades, a signature instrument of his kind. Despite his pain he did his best to lose his pursuers, but yet we traced him to your workshop."

The game was up, it seemed. Leonardo looked around quickly, slowly backing towards the door. The handle did not move in his hands; clearly, it had been barred from the other side. He was trapped.

"No doubt that sounds familiar, then." The Duke said quietly. "You are trapped here, Leonardo. But I will let you go free, and advise my father that you are no threat, _if_, you give us the Piece of Eden that is in your possession. You are already a rich man, and if you so desire, we may even provide you with a handsome pension for the rest of your mortal life. You need take no further commissions."

"I do _not_ have this 'piece of Eden'. I have _no_ idea what it is that you speak of," Leonardo said forcefully, strangling the impulse to laugh, if bitterly; so they had all thought that the conspiracy was focused on _Ezio_. How wrong they were. How amused Antonio would be, if he knew that the enemy was but chasing fairy tales. "And if you claim that my work is based on… on _magic_, I will have to take much insult, sir."

"So you do not cooperate. _Va bene_, I had expected as much." Leonardo tensed as the Duke reached for his pockets, but instead of a weapon, the thin fingers emerged with worse – Rosa's scarf.

"Perhaps this," Pier Luigi said contemptuously, as he tossed the thin fabric on the table, "Will ensure your cooperation."

[tbc]


	6. The Second World 5

[A/N: Slow weekend = fast updates!

A little bit of wiki tells me that Silvio Barbarigo is fictional. ;3 Also, I can't seem to find a reliable timeline for the game, so some actual dates in this fic will be messed around. Basically at present this episode is after Emilio's and Marco's deaths, but before Silvio. Not sure if this fits into Pier Luigi (who is a real person)'s actual history, but let's pretend it does. /sweats

Pier Luigi Borgia is also known as Pedro Luis Borja. However, I find the name Pedro intrinsically hilarious for some reason (I blame Gintama) so I chose to use the alternative name.

Also, Antonio's comment about love in the previous chapter is a quote from Blaise Pascal.]

The Second World

Chapter 5

I

"What have you done with Rosa!"

"Is that her name?" Pier Luigi clapped his hands sharply. The door behind the Duke opened, and two heavily armed guards filed in, holding spears, helmeted and dressed in bronze plate armor. "She is a most difficult young woman. Perhaps your… assistance may be quite timely, for her sake. We have not yet broken her spirit, but women are soft creatures, with such fragile minds."

Leonardo found his hands curling tightly into fists, but he knew that fury would not help him. "Before I help you, I must see her. You must set her free to Antonio's custody."

"Unfortunately, it is more efficient to incarcerate the both of you at the same time," Pier Luigi beckoned, and turned to the exit, ambling through into a darkened corridor lit only periodically by torches. The guards gestured curtly at Leonardo with their spears, indicating that he follow, and took up the rear behind him as he obeyed. "My father and I understand men very well. Torture a man with a strong soul, and he may never break. Torture his friends before him, however, now that is another story."

"You are a _villain_."

"Temper, Leonardo." Pier Luigi did not bother to turn, leading the way as the corridor wound downwards, to a stairwell. "And to think your very grace of temperament is also the talk of Italia. She will not be ill-treated further… if you cooperate."

"I have only your word for that," Leonardo said carefully, trying his best not to imagine what Rosa must have suffered to date, all for her acquaintance with him.

"I am taking you to her at this moment, where you will be held together. No doubt then you may observe our… good will… for yourself."

The stairwell ended in a door barred by another pair of heavily armored guards, who nodded respectfully at the Duke and pulled open the doors, instantly assaulting Leonardo's senses with the warm animal stink of a stable. Expensive horses, clearly bred for races and dressage, whickered and tossed their gorgeous heads in a line of spacious stalls set over ample handfuls of clean hay, and grooms tended to their charges without glancing at their visitors.

"I have powerful patrons," Leonardo tried a warning, as they emerged into the sunlight of the villa's courtyard. It was empty – the guests had all long arrived, and the men who lingered were all guards, in Venier livery. "Few of them will view this outrage kindly."

"You are also known to enter the specific patronage of various Lords abruptly and without reason, and to travel Italia with your patron. That is the story that Lord Venier will offer to his guests; he is undoubtedly doing so at this very moment. There will be some ruffled feathers, no doubt, but it is not as though it is unusual for you." Pier Luigi retorted, untroubled. "And if your _assassini_ friends come for you, we are more than ready for them."

His bravado so swiftly pierced, Leonardo allowed himself to be prodded into an unmarked horse carriage in silence. From the creaking sounds, the guards were climbing up the back of the carriage to their positions, and after a brief pause and a crack of the driver's whip, they were on the move.

The windows were tightly curtained, and a shuttered lantern that swayed from the roof allowed Leonardo to watch the Duke, who sat opposite, legs crossed and hands in his lap. Still unarmed. Leonardo wondered if he could overpower him; change the situation about into his advantage. This way, he could have Rosa released to him, and they could go free, all without troubling anyone further. Leonardo knew he was naturally stronger than many men, and a few of Mario's lessons were still fresh in his mind.

He would have to act quickly. Once out of the carriage, he would be unlikely to have such an opportunity to catch Pier Luigi alone and unarmed.

"Where are we going?" he asked, keeping his tone meek. Perhaps if he could catch the Duke unawares, it would be easier. After all, it looked as though the Duke had defeated Niccolò, who by _Messer_ Machiavelli's opinion had learned all that Mario had to teach.

"Gandia, of course."

_Spain_. Leonardo grit his teeth for a moment, then logic caught up with him. "You could not have moved Rosa from Venezia to Gandia in only a handful of days."

"Correct," Pier Luigi seemed amused. "We were waiting first for you to spring our trap. Now that we have you, we will leave for Gandia, once my ship returns with the tides. Your protector, Lorenzo de' Medici, will be unable to aid you in Gandia without committing an act of war."

"If you want my assistance in locating the artifact, would it not be better for me to remain in Venezia, with Rosa?"

"My father and I have assembled a team of specialists. They will be able to locate and procure this artifact under your direction, even if you were not physically present. Already a team is on its way to your workshop, though I doubt they will find anything of note, given that it is not the first time we have had your holdings searched."

"If you have searched my home more than once then you must know I do not have what you seek," Leonardo tried reason, again. "Your Grace, is it so uncommon for men to have ability?"

"No, it is not," Pier Luigi agreed coldly, "But my family has long been in the habit of collecting artisans and musicians, and none of them have ever shown even a fraction of your breadth of ability, in so many fields all at once. In our experience, this would only be the case if one were in possession of a Piece. _Also_," he added, with a clear note of warning, when Leonardo opened his mouth to protest, "If it eventuates that you are useless to us, then I am afraid that we have no further need for the life of your lovely associate."

Leonardo hoped devoutly that when the team of 'specialists' arrived, Antonio would have been long gone, along with Niccolò. "Then, assuming I have what you speak of, how could I be so certain that you will release us both unharmed?"

"Once we have this Piece, you – and the _assassini_ – will be beneath our notice," Pier Luigi said, with iron promise. "So we will be happy to let you eke out the rest of your days without interference. Again, if you are not difficult, the rest of your days may even be long and very comfortable."

"I am not reputed to be difficult," Leonardo said wryly, and sprang forward, trying to get a grasp on Pier Luigi's neck. If he could but stun the Duke against the wall of the carriage, he would then, even in the awkward confines, be able to get an arm around his neck. At the threat of being strangled, Pier Luigi would no doubt have to give.

It had seemed _so_ logical.

Instead, the Duke twisted with snakelike speed, dodging Leonardo's swipe, then caught Leonardo's instinctive punch, yanking him off balance with surprising strength. With a yelp, Leonardo fell in an ungainly sprawl across Pier Luigi's lap, and winced as he felt his arms wrenched behind his back. Pier Luigi watched him struggle futilely for a moment before chuckling, an ugly sound of cruel mirth.

"I do admit that I had been awaiting an attempt to attack me since the stable, Leonardo. Your patience does not disappoint."

"_Grazie_, your Grace."

"Such sarcasm. It does not befit you." To Leonardo's shock, fingers pulled off his cap, tossing it in a corner, before stroking his hair, curling strands around thumb and forefinger. "You are like a woman in many ways, yourself. Your hair is finer than even a highborn lady's, your jaw and cheeks high and delicate." A thumb slid over the curve of his jaw, and Pier Luigi chuckled again as Leonardo jerked back. "It would be a waste to kill you."

"At least we share _one_ opinion."

"My family and I enjoy collecting exquisite things," Pier Luigi's free hand slid down his ribs to his woven belt, unbuckling it deftly, and then twisting Leonardo's other arm behind him, forcibly tying his wrists together despite his attempts to jerk free. Once bound, the Duke pulled him upright roughly by his collar, and threw him across back into his seat. Leonardo gasped, the breath in his lungs forced out by the impact, dazed even as Pier Luigi leaned close, fingers curled around Leonardo's chin, a thumb stroking his jaw with mock affection.

"And _you_, Leonardo, are _quite_ exquisite. Perhaps we should keep you after all, as a family… pet. I will have to discuss this with my father."

"_Vaffanculo_," Leonardo snapped, trying desperately to pull out of Pier Luigi's vise-like grip. Luigi merely smiled thinly, sliding a palm possessively up his inner thighs, under his tunic, then Leonardo flinched with a gasp of pain as fingers closed hard over his groin, forcefully enough to _hurt_.

Seemingly satisfied, the Duke settled back in his seat, legs folded, hands again in his lap, as though nothing had happened. "We are nearly at the _palazzo_. I trust there will be no further idiocy."

II

From what little he could see as he was hustled out of the carriage and through a tightly guarded compound, Leonardo surmised that they were in the late Marco Barbarigo's palazzo, which, if he recalled, was depressingly believed to be impenetrable.

Pier Luigi had parted ways with him at the compound, seemingly on other business, and despite himself, Leonardo was relieved, not wanting any repeat of the ugly episode in the carriage. Concerned also about Rosa, he needed little encouragement from the guards to keep moving, down narrow corridors and up a seemingly neverending spire of stairs. A tower overlooking Venezia, apparently, from the uniform arrow slit windows that dotted its spine.

At the apparent apex of the tower was a single door, with a pair of heavily armored guards before it, and Leonardo was pushed within it, the door locking behind him.

He picked himself off the stone ground with a sigh, wondering what to do about his bound hands, then someone attacked him, arms curling tightly around his ribs. Fingers deftly freed his wrists, the belt falling onto the stone. Leonardo froze in shock, then he yelped as a woman's hand slapped him across the face, hard enough to snap his head to the side.

"Oh, you _bastardo cretino_, why did _you_ get caught?" Rosa buried her face in his collar, her shoulders shaking.

"_Mi… mi dispiace_, Rosa." Leonardo tentatively curled his arms around her shoulders. "Are you hurt in any way?"

"No, they have not tried to touch me ever since I almost bit off that pale Borgia _pene_. A few bruises, only. I think they were waiting." Rosa pulled back enough to study him, her eyes narrowed. "Waiting to catch you, you _bastardo cretino_."

Rosa's headscarf was gone, as well as the scarf at her neck that Pier Luigi had shown him in the Venier villa, her short dark hair matted and wild over her cheeks. Her lip was split at a corner and swollen, and her right eye had a discoloring bruise, purpling and fresh. She seemed to favor her left arm, holding it apart from her ribs, and her balance seemed a little off. A 'few bruises' were likely the least of her injuries, but nothing seemed in need of immediate medical attention, to Leonardo's relief.

"They have tried to kill Niccolò. I think they will strike at Antonio next." Quickly, Leonardo related what had happened since Rosa had been missing, leading her over to one of the two cots in the circular room, sitting together and leaving his arm around her shoulder when she pressed her cheek against his shoulder. He left out the incident in the carriage. There was no point in upsetting Rosa any further, and she seemed angry enough as it is, biting at her lip and muttering to herself throughout his description.

"These Templars are all _cretini_ if they think your talent is from some magic rock," Rosa sighed, running her hands distractedly through her hair. "_Porca troia!_ How do we get ourselves out of this one?"

"Ezio is coming to Venezia."

"Oh, Ezio is coming! Have you seen this palazzo, Leonardo? Not even a bird could come up this tower without alerting all the archers, or all the guards within. Ezio has tried before, remember! And once the _bastardo_ Templar moves us to Gandia? Ezio may never find us." Rosa exhaled harshly. "_Cazzo!_ It is hopeless."

"Not entirely." Leonardo gently disengaged, deciding to explore their room. Two cots were bolted to the ground, indicating that Pier Luigi's plot had likely been in place for a time; either that or the tower was habitually used as a prison for Barbarigo opposition. There was a chamberpot near the door, covered by a plank. A chipped jug of water, an empty wooden bowl and spoon, and a half-filled cup sat under the single window, a narrow slit in the stone from which Leonardo could only fit his arm. "Would Antonio know we are here?"

"How could he know we are here? _Porca maiala! _It is not as though there is a bright sign in Heaven pointing down to our location," Rosa snapped.

"A bright sign in Heaven…" Leonardo murmured, staring up at the sky. He had the beginnings of an idea.

The guards had not searched Leonardo on his way up, in their haste. Quickly, Leonardo emptied his inner pockets, sewn into the underside of his tunic, onto the bed beside Rosa. A set of drawing charcoal, a ruler, a silver mirror, a purse of florins, and a small, metal scroll tube. Save for the purse, a piece of charcoal, and a scrap of paper from the tube, he hid the rest between the cot and its frame.

Rosa was watching him curiously now. "You have a plan?"

"How is food brought here?" A terrible thought struck him. "Have they fed you at all?"

"Twice a day, stale crusts and leftovers," Rosa said in disgust. "They open the door, but with guards along with the servants."

That… wasn't so good. "What about the guards outside?"

"There is usually one guard. The other patrols the stairwell."

That was better. Leonardo wrote a few words on the scrap of paper with the charcoal, as legibly as he could. Then he walked over to the door, steeling himself to be confident, knocking sharply on the small, sliding pane at eye level. "_Salve. Salve!_"

The panel slid open to reveal a helmeted guard, his expression suspicious. Leonardo pushed a small handful of florins through the pane, and the guard blinked. There was a clink of coins, and the guard looked back up at him, fractionally friendlier. "What do you want, prisoner?"

"My name is Leonardo da Vinci. You know that I am a rich man. I need a favor, and I can pay you quite handsomely for your trouble."

"I cannot help you escape," the guard muttered. "Nor do I want to. The Duke of Gandia is my master, and he is merciless."

"Such loyalty is quite admirable. No, my friend is injured, and I was unwell even before I arrived."

"Unwell?"

"Why else do you think I live alone? It is not contagious unless close proximity is maintained. I have some specialized medicine that I need to be procured, before we leave for Gandia. It is very urgent. I have the materials written on this list," Leonardo held up the scrap of paper to the pane, and jingled the coins in his purse. "And I have fifty florins here, more in a hidden place in my workshop."

"What stops me from taking the florins from you now?"

"If you open the door to take it from me, I will throw this purse out of the window, and you will never learn where my treasure is."

"It is medicine, you say," the guard said thoughtfully, after some hesitation. "And the Duke of Gandia did want the two of you alive for a time."

"Yes, he wants us to attend him in Gandia itself. We may not survive the trip there without this medicine. My… condition needs to be stabilized constantly."

"Very well. Give me that paper, and twenty florins. I will provide as much of the medicine as you need to you by my next shift. Half a day," the guard clarified, when Leonardo frowned. "I cannot come by when it is not my shift."

"I understand." Making a show of reluctance, Leonardo counted out twenty-five florins and passed the coins and the paper through the panel. "And a little extra for your haste. _Grazie_, sir."

"Do not contact me again." The guard slipped the panel shut.

"What are you making?" Rosa whispered, her eyes wide.

Leonardo smiled. "A sign in Heaven."

III

Pier Luigi Borgia waited in the doorway until his guards lined the walls of their cell, standing at attention. Leonardo stood, keeping Rosa behind him despite her irritable prodding at his flank and her muttered protests that she was no shrinking flower.

"It is good to see that we have chosen the bait well," The Duke said idly, his cold eyes flicking between them. "My men did observe _signorina_ Rosa visit your workshop regularly. It was a choice between her or that _puttana_ Teodora. Your _cara_ is a beautiful, fiery young girl. It would be such a pity to hurt her further."

"_Figlio de puttana!_ I'll like to see you try!"

"If you know my ancestry you would know that to be fact and not insult, my dear _signorina_," Pier Luigi shrugged, untroubled. "My team found nothing, as we expected. Have you decided to cooperate, Leonardo?"

"Of course it would not be there. My friends have no doubt hidden it once they knew I was taken." Leonardo was not sure what to say. He did not want to risk being executed on the spot, he and Rosa, if Pier Luigi finally believed that there was no Piece. Perhaps he should play along in the hopes of rescue.

"You mean the thieves?"

"How would I know who has taken it? Several men knew of its existence. All of them knew what to do with it if I were ever captured."

"Logical." Pier Luigi gestured, and two guards advanced towards them. One shoved Leonardo roughly aside, and the other grabbed Rosa's arm. Instantly, she shrieked imprecations like a wildcat, kicking and scratching, nails skidding uselessly over metal as the guard turned his faceplate to take the attack, slamming her back against the wall. Stunned, Rosa stumbled, her arms pulled behind her, forced down onto her knees.

"Rosa!" Leonardo tried to get up, freezing when the edge of a spear was pointed at his throat.

"Each time you hesitate to answer, I will break one of her fingers," Pier Luigi said mildly. "Which Piece is in your possession, Leonardo? What does it look like?"

"I…" Leonardo flinched as a guard wrenched up Rosa's right wrist, inexorably pulling back the middle finger until she jerked bodily in his grasp like a marionette, a scream forced from her throat. "Stop, stop!" Looking around wildly, his eyes fell upon the jug at the window. "It is a cup!"

Pier Luigi shook his head slightly at the guard, and the finger was released. "You have the cup? How curious. But the cup, the Grail, is indeed listed as lost to us, since the last century, when it was stolen. We are indeed fortunate if yours is the Grail, as it has special significance to us Templars. What does this cup look like, Leonardo?"

"It… it changes." Leonardo said, extrapolating as quickly as he could. This 'Piece of Eden' was likely something religious, and he knew of the legends of the Grail. "Sometimes it is a dish. I… I had painted it as a dish."

"Your famous painting, _The Last Supper_. I see. No doubt it was your inspiration."

"As you say." Leonardo glanced at Rosa, who was breathing heavily, limp in her captor's grasp, her finger bent at an unnatural angle. The blow against the wall must have been more serious than it had looked. "Now that you know of it, heed your end of the bargain. At least let Rosa go."

"Until I have the Grail in my hands, you will remain in my custody." Pier Luigi retorted. "It is one of the most fickle pieces of all, and no doubt it will only react to your presence. Where do you believe it is being taken?"

"Firenze," Leonardo said quickly, as the guard took hold of Rosa's forefinger. "Back to the Medici."

"I see. Yes, we were aware that the Medici have long amassed artifacts in their armories. No doubt they felt lucky to find a wielder among their peasantry."

"As you say." Leonardo hurried to embrace a shivering Rosa as the guards drew back at Pier Luigi's gesture.

"We will leave you at peace until we locate the Grail. No doubt it will be on one of the ships headed towards Firenze."

Leonardo waited until they were alone in their cell before carefully taking Rosa's wounded hand. She was shaking her head, as if to clear it, though when she finally stared at him, her eyes were still a little unfocused. Fear, fury and despair fought for control of her features, then she rubbed hard at her eyes with her uninjured hand, sniffing loudly, then gritting her teeth and placing her hand on his palm.

"Bend it back, and set it if you can."

"It will hurt-"

"_Porca troia!_ Even a _cretino_ child will know that it will hurt. Do it now!" Rosa gathered a fistful of Leonardo's cloak in her hand, and bit down on it.

Steeling himself, Leonardo bent back the finger in one sharp motion, flinching as Rosa muffled her scream into his cloak. Shakily, he bound and splint it the best he could with scraps from his cloak, against the wooden spoon, and passed Rosa the cup of water, encouraging her silently with gentle fingers to drink.

Her eyes had cleared when she drained the cup, and she even chuckled grimly as she set it down. "Was what you said real, Leonardo?" Rosa kept her voice soft.

"To believe that a magic cup causes me to paint as I do? My teacher will turn in his grave." Leonardo tried a joke, and Rosa smiled, wearily, as though reassured, leaning back against the wall. "Here, let me help you onto the bed."

Rosa nodded, gingerly allowing herself to be settled in her cot. With her free hand, she squeezed Leonardo's wrist tightly, in gratitude, and then she frowned as there was an urgent, soft rap on the panel.

Leonardo walked up to it. "Yes?"

"Here." The guard opened the panel, hastily sliding through a few bags of purchases. "It was not easy to attain."

"_Grazie_, kind sir." Leonardo inspected the bags, then, satisfied, he took the pouch from his tunic and passed it through the panel. "There is a hidden chest in my villa. It is under the tree in my garden."

"_Grazie_." The guard shut the panel. Trying to contain his sense of urgency, Leonardo arranged the small bags on his bed, and took out the materials he had hidden in the cot. As the sky began to darken, he started to build.

[tbc: Blame 4chan for the scene with Pier Luigi. I do believe someone asked for a bit of Templar x Leonardo… -.- you are all terrible people. BUT, more Leo sandwich please. :3]


	7. The Second World 6

[A/N: What! I had thought that this would be a SHORT story. Damn you, procrastination! I haven't even finished Batman: Arkham Asylum! T_T This frustrating inability to continue beating on enemies that I had only recently beat upon is... well…

DEAR BATMAN, when you beat an enemy, PLEASE lock them up instead of leaving them on the carpet to revive and torment you later, thank you. Also, I keep thinking you are as agile and as sticky as Ezio and keep missing jumps for ledges. Clearly, you need some time in the Animus 2.0. Love, Anya.]

The Second World

Chapter 6

I

"It is very basic," Leonardo said apologetically, a few hours later, as he aimed the device gingerly out of the window, careful not to shake it. "And it might be unstable, since I do not have the best of tools or my workshop."

"But what are you-"

Leonardo twisted the base of the converted scroll case, the recently purchased-through-proxy chemicals within instantly mixing together. Quickly, he threw it from the window, twisting around and clapping his hands over Rosa's ears. There was a soft whistle, accelerating upwards, then a thunderclap of sound and a flash of light that exploded behind his eyelids even as he shut his eyes. Rosa pushed him away and hurried to the window.

Above them, a firework painted the dark bowl of the sky with motes of simmering gold, a faint trail of pale smoke still lingering in an arc from just outside their window. Rosa gaped; her lips parted in her shock, her eyes tracking slowly from the smoke and up into the fading gold, then back again.

"You… you built that in a handful of _hours_?"

"Once you have the correct ingredients it is not difficult. I had previously devised a safer method of creating fireworks rather than using gunpowder," Leonardo explained modestly, clearing up the spare materials on the bed, "But I could not quite get my version to change colors or even attain an acceptable hue of gold, so I did not release my findings to the public. Right now, I am not even sure where I left the journal page with my calculations. It is a good thing that I remember the proportions."

"I will never call you a _cretino_ again," Rosa breathed, still staring upwards. "A sign in Heaven. Antonio will see! There is hope. Someone will come, if not Ezio then Antonio. We will be rescued."

"I hope so. I do not have another scroll case to make a second one."

"Everyone in Venezia would have seen that." Rosa hugged him abruptly, in her excitement. "You are a genius."

"_Grazie_, Rosa." Leonardo carefully tipped the more volatile materials back into their vials, and then into their respective bags, wondering if he should even bother hiding them. It would be clear enough to the Duke what they had done, and it was not as though they had another tube for a firework. Perhaps he could construct a trap out of the chemicals, but the thought of blowing up a man, even if the man was an enemy, made Leonardo recoil mentally in revulsion. He resolved that he would not mention it to Rosa.

Announcing their presence was a two-pronged sword, but it had been a risk that Leonardo had been willing to take. Not only did their friends know where they were, but they would also have effectively made the Borgia and their guards more alert to an invasion.

Furthermore, if Pier Luigi was cautious, he would likely immediately attempt to have Leonardo and Rosa moved to another location. Leonardo hoped that he had not complicated Antonio's plans overmuch, by doing so. It was probably helpful enough for the thieves to know which building served as their prison, in all the buildings in Venezia.

"People are coming," Rosa said suddenly, tilting her head, and sure enough, as Leonardo turned towards the doorway, he could hear the tramp of armored footsteps, faintly growing louder and louder. So Pier Luigi was being cautious, after all.

Rosa grabbed the cup from the floor and began to fill it with the remaining charcoal and sulphur, clearly the only materials that she recognized, taking the drafting compass from his belt and jamming it into the mix.

"Rosa?"

"When they come, shut up and let me talk." Rosa winced as her injured finger brushed against the cup, and she transferred it to her other hand, aiming it at the door. "You spent so much work to announce our presence in this tower, I will be damned if I let it go to waste. If we let them move us someplace else, it would all have been for nothing."

"Sulphur and charcoal will not really accomplish anything-"

"Hush!"

The door burst open, armored guards filling the doorway, spears pointed. Rosa raised the filled cup with a snarl.

"Come no closer, _stronzi_, or I will set off our second firework and take us all to hell!"

The guards hesitated at the door, looking dubiously at each other, then back at Rosa and at her hands. "It does not look like any rocket I have ever seen," the guard at the front ventured, gesturing at the cup with his spear.

"No, the _puttana_ is obviously lying," another agreed belligerently, looking suspiciously between Leonardo and Rosa. "Stab her in the leg. If she squeals and nothing explodes, we will know."

"But if the rocket was made by Leonardo da Vinci? The man makes wonders out of nothing. You remember the winged machine, the one that flew over all of Venezia and allowed that _assassino_ to murder the Doge," A third argued. "Do you want to die? I have children, a wife! If a firework is loosed so close, we will _all _die."

"And you think that the first firework was set by _them_? How could they have built it? Out of bedsheets and wooden spoons and _merde_? Pah! No doubt it was likely set off by one of the Barbarigo children or their guests as a prank," The first guard scoffed, muscling through the door and advancing. "The Duke has decided that in the light of the possible security breach-"

There was another thunderclap of sound, close enough for Leonardo's ears to ring painfully for several heartbeats, the scent of acrid gunpowder filling the small room, and to his astonishment, the foremost guard stumbled backwards, an expression of frozen shock on his helmeted face.

Then he collapsed, slowly and heavily in a crash of clattering plate armor, backwards onto the others that had been crowding the doorway. Shouts and screams of confusion followed as the weight forced the wedged guards behind him to overbalance and slip on the narrow stairwell, men tumbling down in a confusion of spears and blades.

Rosa looked down at the cup in her hands, incredulous, but Leonardo had already come to the most logical conclusion, rushing to the window, his heart in his mouth.

Ezio grinned impishly up at him, balanced precariously on stucco and the edge of the window, the miniature, cannon-like assassination device set into his bracer still smoking.

"_Buona sera, caro mio_."

"Ezio!" Overwhelmed with joy, Leonardo felt his eyes sting with the onset of tears, his legs already unsteady as Ezio drew his left hand out through the window and nuzzled his palm tenderly.

"The trouble you get into when my eyes are not upon you," Ezio said dryly, peering past him into the room. "Rosa, you are alive. That is good."

"Good? _Good?_" Rosa screeched, though she returned Ezio's grin. "Come in here so I can slap you! You are _late_, you _bastardo assassino_! For all you knew they could already have taken us to Gandia!"

"I do not know, Rosa," Ezio teased, with a wink at Leonardo. "I hear that Spain is quite beautiful at this time of year."

"_Bastardo assassino,_" Rosa growled, though her next breath was a laugh, joyful and relieved.

"Mario's men are creating a disturbance in the courtyard, and Antonio's thieves are picking off the archers. I will find another way into the tower. Arm yourselves and wait for me where you are." Ezio turned Leonardo's palm around to brush a kiss over his knuckles. "I will be there soon."

"Be quick, _amore mio_," Leonardo whispered, and Ezio pressed a last kiss to his fingers.

"I promise you, Leonardo. Soon you will be at my side again."

Dizzy with adoration, Leonardo continued to stare out of the window as Ezio carefully climbed down, until Rosa jabbed him rudely in the ribs. "Leonardo. You heard what he said. Help me."

She had taken the spear from the dead guard, stalking to the entrance of their cell and thrusting the blade abruptly into the exposed neck of the stunned guard at the doorway, between the helmet and the bronze gorget.

"Rosa!" Leonardo exclaimed, horrified.

"Here." Rosa dragged a longsword free from the scabbard of the man she had just killed and kicked it across the stone to him. "If you cannot stomach work like this, then stay there." Another man died, gurgling and clutching at the spear, and she viciously kicked his body down the stair. Far below, there was another cry of pained shock, even as she advanced towards the next unlucky guard. "These two ones here. Take off their greaves, helmets and bracers. _Dio mio,_ quickly!"

Dumbly, Leonardo did as he was told, fumbling for catches in the armor and dragging them free. Soon the pieces of plate armor were in a small bronze pile by Rosa's feet. "What do we do? Do we put them on?"

Rosa frowned at him. "What? What gave you _that_ idea? No, if we see anyone coming up this narrow stairway, this is ammunition." The thief's wicked smile told Leonardo that _she_, at least, was going to enjoy this.

II

"_Scusa… scusa_…" Leonardo winced as another guard toppled backwards, felled by a well-aimed helmet. Rosa rolled her eyes at him, continuing to peer down the stairwell worriedly. They were running out of pieces, and Ezio was nowhere to be seen.

"That _bastardo assassino_ is late. Again." Rosa muttered, following her words with a string of unintelligible curses.

"Pier Luigi is formidable. He defeated Niccolò," Leonardo said, anxious now. "What if he met Ezio?"

"If he met Ezio then Gandia will now need a new Duke," Rosa shrugged, hefting a bracer in her hands and keeping her eyes on the stairwell before them. "Ezio fights like a demon. It is like nothing that even Antonio has ever seen. This, Antonio has told me."

"I suppose you are right," Leonardo said uncomfortably, wishing that he had Rosa's conviction and cursing his overactive imagination. Images of Ezio, stabbed and bleeding to death on the rich carpets of the Barbarigo palazzo, kept creeping into his mind.

"I hear someone approaching. _Salve, bastardi!_ _Andate a 'fanculo, stronzi!_" The bracer went sailing, bouncing off the stair and against the corner, and then there was a hollow clank as it glanced off a shield.

"Your _cara_ is most unladylike," Pier Luigi chided mildly. A guard emerged from the bend in the stairwell, a large shield held out defensively before him, dressed not in Barbarigo livery but in the golden yellow of the Borgia. Behind him was Pier Luigi, armed with a slender blade, dressed in chain mail and silver greaves, his family crest of the rampant bull etched over his shoulder plates. Other armed guards took up the rear, all armed with shields and blades, all hardened men that seemed far more experienced than those that Rosa had slain.

"I will show _you_ 'ladylike', _stronzo!_" Rosa readied a helmet.

"Be reasonable, _signorina_. Here I have the best of my men, who I assure you, are far better than these filth that the Barbarigo see fit to employ to guard their palazzo. Up where you are, there are just the two of you. Come quietly and you will not be harmed. Resist and this tower will become your tomb."

"Hah! You need the both of us alive," Rosa sneered. "While I have no such concern about your health, _bastardo_."

Pier Luigi glanced at Leonardo, who grit his teeth and raised the blade in his hands in challenge. It would be a desperate gamble, and Leonardo knew that logically, even Rosa and himself alone would be hard pressed to face Pier Luigi's guards, let alone a man who could defeat an _assassino_. They could not also barricade themselves in the room; the door locked from the outside, and the cots could not be moved. Perhaps if they could hold out but long enough for Ezio to arrive-

The Duke sighed, when the both of them refused to move, united in their resolve. "It appears that neither of you are prepared to be reasonable."

A helmet bounced off a hastily raised shield, then the Duke pushed past his guard, advancing, bare-handed. He beckoned disdainfully at Rosa, who let out a wordless growl, stepping forward and jabbing the spear at his neck.

Lightning fast, Pier Luigi danced to the side, grabbing the haft of the spear and jerking it roughly out of Rosa's fingers. Stumbling, Rosa gasped as the Duke drove the butt of the spear into her belly, then she fell, instantly unconscious, as he whirled the spear in a tight circle and slammed the haft against her neck with a sickening _crack_.

Another dexterous twirl, and the edge of the spear pressed lightly against Rosa's cheek. "Will you be reasonable _now_, Leonardo, or should I flay the skin off the face of your _cara_?"

Leonardo dropped his blade, putting up his hands slowly in the universal gesture of surrender. A guard, at Pier Luigi's nod, pushed past him and hefted Rosa's body with a grunt onto his shoulder. Another shoved Leonardo to the center of the armed group, a blade against his neck, as they made their way down the stairwell, the Duke discarding the spear behind him.

"Our trip to Gandia must take place somewhat ahead of schedule, I am afraid," Pier Luigi said, his tone ironic. "Unless the Barbarigo are far more incompetent than even I had ever imagined, your friends will soon be routed from the palazzo. However, it is clear that they will simply make another attempt once they regroup. Gandia would be the safest."

"You have found the cup?" Leonardo asked, hoping to stall for time.

"Sadly, it looks as though we must leave _that_ particular endeavor to my father's subordinates, the Barbarigo. One hopes that they will not, yet again, disappoint us or expire inconveniently during festivals. It should be a simple enough matter to requisition and search all ships departing for Forli."

"How many ships leave Venezia every day, your Grace? And for all you know, my associates could have placed the cup on a ship bound to another port, to be taken over land to Firenze."

"Then what do you suggest?" Pier Luigi asked, with deceptive mildness, as they reached the base of the stairwell and exited into a carpeted corridor. "That I take you with me aboard every ship about to leave Venezia? I do not think so, Leonardo. In any regard, even if we fail to intercept the Grail before it reaches its destination, the villa de' Medici is hardly impenetrable. What was once lost to us can be retaken again from its thieves. A wielder like you, however, one that the Grail accepts? _That_ is rare."

"Then," Leonardo said, with sudden realization, "You never did intend to release me, or Rosa."

"No," Pier Luigi smiled coldly. "As I said, the Grail is fickle. In the hands of any man it does not accept, it is an inert object, useless even in the presence of other Pieces of Eden. A man who can wield the Grail is worth preserving."

"You _lied!_"

"And is that so very surprising, Leonardo? Men lie all the time," the Duke of Gandia said dismissively. "I suppose this little skirmish with the _assassini_ only forced the inevitable."

Numbly, Leonardo looked around him, mute with angry shock. In the corridor, Leonardo could see why Ezio had never arrived as he had agreed – there were only arrow slit windows set into the right side of the corridor, the left an unbroken block of sculpted, solid wall, decorated with rich tapestries and framed paintings. The sole entrance was barricaded with shifted furniture, with guards stationed behind it, spears pointed at the door.

The Borgia guard at the front of their group pressed a palm to an innocuous spot on the wall, and there was a sudden, loud _click_. Two guards pushed hard at another section of the wall, and part of it slid back on greased skids, easily rolled to the side. Another steep, dark stairway beckoned, and Leonardo hesitated for only a moment before the guard behind him pushed him forward.

The second guard at the front lit a lantern, which bobbed and wove unholy shadows over the stone walls of the stairwell as they descended into the dark, the steps beneath their feet dusty and disused. "

This leads to the port?"

"To _a_ ship, not necessarily at the port. The Barbarigo have many enemies, and their palazzo have warrens of tunnels." The Duke explained. "We should emerge some distance away, close to a channel where a boat awaits to take us to one of my ships. Do not concern yourself overmuch," Pier Luigi continued, with a sharp smile, "At this very moment, four decoy carriages are fleeing the compound, each headed to a different port, to four different Borgia ships. That should occupy the _assassino_ for a while."

III

They emerged from a seemingly interminable journey through the claustrophobic underground tunnel to a manhole lid onto a deserted street, within sight of the sea. Expecting Ezio to appear at any moment, and yet hoping he did not, given the number of armed guards and Pier Luigi's skill, Leonardo wasn't sure whether or not to feel disappointed when they stepped onto waiting boats with not even the sight of any attempted opposition.

The night was turning chill as the guards began to row them out towards the looming shadow of the waiting ship in the distance. Seated near the prow, staring down at the waters, Leonardo reviewed and discarded plans for escape. All of them came down to one problem – Rosa was still unconscious, and he could not leave her to the tender mercies of the Borgia like a coward.

"Leonardo." Leonardo looked up, questioning. The Duke pointed up at the roof of a terrace house overlooking the water. One of Antonio's thieves stood, watching, while another was already sprinting away, a faint speck twisting and turning over the snaking rooftops towards the distant Barbarigo palazzo. "They are not bad, these _assassini_ and their allies. It seems that they do indeed have eyes everywhere. But I am afraid that they will be too late; and then, they will have all the world to search."

Leonardo held his counsel, choosing to fix his stare back at the water. He recalled the conversation in the tower with Ezio, with Rosa's expostulation at the assassin's 'lateness' and Ezio's playful response. Ezio would know where they were going. Still, a part of Leonardo hoped that the assassin would not come, even if that doomed himself and Rosa in turn. Spain would be utterly unfamiliar to Ezio, and it would be the Borgia's home ground, their territory. Furthermore, as Pier Luigi had said, an intervention could even constitute an act of war, and war was a bestial monster that could not be justified, let alone for the mere sake of two people.

Their boats soon reached the ship, mooring beside its dark hull, and Leonardo reluctantly climbed up the rope ladder to the deck, with Rosa carried up carefully behind him. On closer inspection, they had boarded a sleek merchant ship that currently flew Venezian colors, her sailors silent men who from their partially incomprehensible dialogue were clearly Spaniards.

"Put them in the brig," Pier Luigi said curtly, to the guards, then he turned to the ship's captain, a tall, bald man burned dark from the sun, dressed in a dark jacket and vest.

The captain bowed to the Duke, doffing his hat in respect. "_A sus órdenes, su excelencia_."

"_Partimos de inmediato_. Set sail immediately. We leave for home."

"_Enseguida, maestro_." The captain began to shout orders in rapid fire Spanish, too quick for Leonardo to decipher, men rushing to do his bidding, unfurling large sails to catch the wind and pulling up the anchor in a slick rattle of chains.

As he was pushed towards the lower deck, Leonardo cast one last look at Venezia, and hesitated. Two familiar figures were darting over the rooftops, speeding for the edge, one in white, with a crimson sash around his waist, the other in a dark doublet. The guard behind him gripped his shoulder tightly as the ship weighed anchor, turning ponderously on the tide, buffeted by the winds. At the edge of the roof Ezio dived, as one swift, white arrow into the dark waters, while Antonio hesitated, an arm outstretched as though to stop him, and then the thief threw up his hands in defeat, sitting down heavily on the slate roof.

"Too late," Pier Luigi murmured, watching the lone swimmer struggling desperately to reach them, even as archers lined the rail in practiced preparation, echoing Leonardo's grim thoughts, as the ship caught the winds and surged forward.

[A/N: Since we have a Mario and a Luigi, the princess is in the other castle! XD …

… don't tell me you didn't see that joke crawling over the horizon ;3 Field trip to Spain!

… and back to Arkham Asylum, now that I've finally written Ezio back into the story. T_t Credit to reviewer Anngi for help with the Spanish. ]


	8. The Second World 7

[A/N: Readers are invited to point out mistakes, particularly with the Italian/Spanish. I speak English/Mandarin only, and I'm well aware (particularly with mandarin) that sentence structures often wildly differ.

I think I have fixed the plural and possessive word problems in this fiction. O_o please continue to point out any errors! Thanks to s0mmeil for the pointers.

And of course I read 4chan. ^^ There's nowhere else I can think of where I can find so much random fanart all at once.]

The Second World

Chapter 7

I

Leonardo had never been in a brig before, and he found it a most curious experience.

This particular brig was filthy and dank, having actually been built into part of the bilge, with stinking, oily water lapping constantly at their heels. It would be safer for the crew and far cleaner, Leonardo decided, if some sort of suction device could be installed and the water pumped out safely through an upper deck porthole that emptied into the sea. Absorbed in mental calculations of how he could get such a device to run with minimum human effort, he didn't notice Rosa wake against him until she started to cough.

Her hands gripped his fingers tightly for a moment as though in fright, then recoiled. "Leonardo?"

"_Si_, Rosa." Their captors hadn't bothered to provide them with a lantern, and with the trapdoor closed, they were drenched in complete darkness. "I wonder if it is feasible to attach small undershot waterwheels to the hull of a ship, and use the power from that to pump bilge water out through the upper deck."

"What are you talking about?" Rosa's fingers crept up his arm, then felt carefully at his skull, "Did they hit you on the head?"

"No, I am just a little bruised. How about you? Your finger, your neck?"

"My pride is the most sorely injured," Rosa sighed. "_Vaffanculo, cazzo, porca troia!_ I guess from our most _comfortable _guest quarters that we are on the way to lovely Gandia. What happened since I was unconscious? That _bastardo assassino_ had better have a very _good_ reason for failing to rescue us in time."

Leonardo explained his dialogue with Pier Luigi, the barricaded corridor, the decoy carriages and the tunnel, and finally, his last sight of Venezia. Rosa squeezed his hand tightly as his voice trembled near the end of his update, and he felt lips press lightly and reassuringly against his ear. "Oh, they will come. They had better come. How long is it from Venezia to Gandia?"

"Ah…" Leonardo frowned, concentrating. "By ship? We would have to circle Italia, along the coast, likely stopping for supplies a few times, perhaps at the Spanish ports, like Brindisi or flying other colors to enter ports like Messina, then Palermo, to ports in Corsica, then likely to Barcelona before sailing down to Gandia. Or there might be another route. Or me might take an overland route from Forli and cross Italia before boarding another ship. I have not been to Spain before. This is quite exciting."

Rosa groaned. "I regret my promise not to call you a _cretino_. We are imprisoned on a Spanish ship, perhaps never to see Italia again, and you think it is _exciting_?"

"Well, I suppose we could try and escape at Forli," Leonardo said, somewhat abashed. "If we could but send word to Lady Caterina Sforza in Forli, perhaps she could assist us. She owes Ezio a favor."

"Caterina? _La Tigre_?" Rosa whistled, clearly impressed. "Ezio has powerful friends. _But_, we are trapped _inside a ship_, and unless you can drill a hole through the hull _which I do not recommend because I do not want to drown_, I do not see how we can contact anyone."

Leonardo had opened his mouth while Rosa had mentioned damaging the hull, and closed it again at her quick admonition. "At present I am afraid that I do not have the tools to do anything, Rosa."

"Perhaps if we could pretend to be ill," Rosa mused. "Though you are a terrible liar. You blush when you lie."

"They could simply kidnap a doctor, and then there would be a third poor soul imprisoned and on our conscience."

Rosa's snort told him what she thought of the use of conscience. "If the _assassino_ has any sense, he would have sent a messenger bird to Sforza. God willing, it would reach her in time, or while the ship docks for resupply."

"Would a pigeon always reach Forli faster than a ship?" Leonardo mused, thinking of mathematical equations. "Say if a pigeon moves at the rate of-"

"_Hopefully_," Rosa interrupted, sounding a little irritable, "They will take the overland route from Forli. There are more chances to escape, and it sounds like it would be the quickest path to Gandia."

"That is true. Pier Luigi also referred often to his father, Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia. It is possible that we will go through Roma, where the Cardinal resides, given their shared interest in fairytales."

"Good. I do not think I could… that I would like to spend weeks aboard this stinking ship." Rosa shivered. "I miss Venezia already."

"So do I." Leonardo hugged Rosa's shaking shoulders tightly and hoped Ezio was well, as he recalled the words of their last, all-too-brief meeting. Ezio had _promised_. That, more than anything else, perhaps illogically, had made him feel far better about his predicament. When he concentrated, he could almost still feel the ghost of lips pressed against his palm.

II

Pier Luigi, it seemed, was not the sort of man to waste time gloating over his captives. They were left alone in the interminable darkness, punctuated only by food, water and a change of their chamberpot (at least there was _some_ civility). At one point, it seemed as though they were at port; the ship felt as though it wasn't moving, save gently from the waves, and the usual echoing hubbub from above decks was quieter. The sailors who fed them spoke no Italian and, despite Leonardo's hesitant attempts at Spanish, ignored them completely.

They spent their time talking. Rosa recalled little of her childhood outside Antonio's guild, but of the guild itself and its master she harbored a clear, fierce loyalty and affection.

"You seem to be the only woman in the guild," Leonardo had said, at one point.

"I _am_ the only woman. Sometimes you cannot believe how much of a burden that can be," Rosa countered, with a soft chuckle, and then she sobered. "Women who fall between the cracks in your world turn to begging or prostitution. I think I was an exception… in a sense."

"In a sense?"

"I think my parents sold me to a brothel when I was young. I do not remember, and the _madame_ would never tell me. She was a strange one, she. She had a lot of secrets, particularly from her girls."

"Sold to a _brothel_?" Leonardo repeated, horrified.

"It is not uncommon. People have too many children, they cannot feed them, they sell off one or two." Rosa shrugged against him, their shoulders rubbing. "I was unmanageable even at a young age, it seemed, more interested in cutting purses than learning dances. One day I cut Antonio's purse, while he was visiting an associate in a tavern."

"Successfully?"

"Hah!" Rosa's slim frame shook; for a moment, Leonardo tensed, and then he realized it was laughter. "No. He caught me. There was a scene when I then tried to kick him in the balls. One of the girls working the tavern fetched the _madame_. We all went back to the brothel, and Antonio went to speak privately with the _madame_ in her office. When he emerged, I had been transferred into his custody."

"Just like that?" Leonardo said, astonished.

"No, no. The _madame_ was paid, of course." When Leonardo didn't comment, appalled, Rosa chuckled again. "Oh, the girls had the same reaction as you did. They were quite fond of me for some reason, despite my tantrums and my troublemaking. Somehow Antonio talked them out of their concerns, and I was apprenticed out of the oldest profession in the world. Much to my relief."

"Is it hard being the only woman?"

"The guild is big," Rosa said soberly. "Sometimes we cannot keep track of our members. Sometimes there are traitors. But usually, I get no trouble. I can take care of myself."

"That is admirable. You are a strong person." Leonardo said sincerely. "You must know, when I first met you and Antonio together I thought that you were married."

"Me? With that _bastardo_?" Rosa asked, incredulous, and then she began to laugh, loud and boisterous and unladylike, slapping at her thighs. "No… no, no. He is like an older brother, a father."

"Then there is no one in your life?" Leonardo asked, teasing. "What a shame! I like weddings."

"_Cazzo!_ The two most beautiful men in my life are in love with each other. That is life for you," Rosa poked Leonardo in the ribs with mock anger, even as he blushed in the dark. "How could anyone else compare to you, Leonardo? You take me to the most _charming_ places. I have never been imprisoned in a brig before, let alone one so dark and so filthy."

"Perhaps it is just me," Leonardo said dryly, "I have never had much luck with love. The first man I loved was a prostitute, who committed suicide; the second was an assistant who acquired the rather fitting nickname of _Salai_, he, I eventually had to fire from my household for thievery and various other indiscretions; and the third is an _assassino_."

"A prostitute, a thief, and an assassin." Rosa rested her head on her shoulder. "If you are running through the gallery of rogues, then your next love must be a lawyer."

"You mean, Machiavelli's father?"

Rosa drew back briefly at his serious tone, then she growled and shoved him roughly when he laughed. "_Messer_ Bernardo and his son are a pair of cold fish! If you were-"

Above decks, there was a sudden increase in the tone and frequency of shouted words and stamping feet. Rosa's hand tightened on his leg. "We are slowing."

"Another port." Leonardo had lost count of the days, but they were most likely already past Forli. So much for his first hope of rescue. "Perhaps we are at Pesaro. Or Fano."

"If you say that this is exciting I will slap you."

"I was not going to," Leonardo said, injured, but Rosa sat up sharply, tense against him.

"Shh! Someone is coming."

From the increasing, heavy metal tramp, Leonardo could guess who – or what, at least. Light flared into the bilge, with sailors tramping into the waters holding guttering candles, and a pair of guards opened the cell, motioning them up above decks with their swords. Rosa's step quickened, and Leonardo found himself copying her – it had felt like an eternity since they had fresh air, since the _sun_.

It was late in the afternoon, and on the deck, Rosa was taking large gulps of air, turning her face with blissful relief up into the warmth of the sun. Leonardo squinted at the port in the distance as his eyes re-accustomed themselves slowly to the light, as the ship weighed anchor, recalling a landscape painting that he had seen in Venezia. "Ancona? Why Ancona?"

"Because Ancona has no lord," Pier Luigi turned to face them from the rail, flanked by his guards. "So it is a good place for the Templars, not having to heed the intricacies of linking fiefs and politics."

Pier Luigi was wounded – under his chainmail, his left hand was clearly held stiffly. The Duke of Gandia saw his curious stare, and smiled thinly. "Our stay in Forli was most… eventful. I did not know that you had friends in the Sforza. _Il Tigre_ herself arrived at the docks and demanded that we submit our ship to her searching. When we refused and attempted to leave peacefully, she snatched a bow from her guard and actually managed to hit me with an arrow from her contingent while we were rowing back to my ship. It seems the story is that the Spanish have kidnapped the illustrious Leonardo da Vinci."

"What do you mean, 'story', _bastardo_," Rosa said snidely. "It is true. I hope your arm becomes infected and sickens you to death."

"My father has advised me that he will be attending our chapterhouse in Ancona. Until he arrives, you are our guests." Pier Luigi said, his tone ironic again, as he looked at their sorry state of filth in clear distaste. "I trust that you would make use of the facilities."

Rosa ran out of invective only after they had reached the docks.

III

Once clean and dressed in fresh, if plain white cotton tunics and breeches, Leonardo felt far better, standing at the balcony in the Templar's chapterhouse and trying not to notice how many archers stood watchfully between his position and any form of exit to the courtyard. The guestrooms were opulent, with adjoining washing facilities, which Rosa was _still_ enjoying.

His best clothes had been taken away, possibly to be burned. Leonardo considered that a little regretfully, then shook his head and put himself to exploring the rooms. There was a single, four-poster bed, the quilt an exquisite tapestry in itself. Paintings adorned the chamber's walls, and books lined shelves in a connecting lounge with a fireplace set into the wall, two amply cushioned chairs facing it, a low coffee table, intricately carved, before the chairs. Other than the books and furniture, however, all the objects in the room had likely been removed; Leonardo observed lighter spots on the mantelpiece and table where vases and ornaments had likely resided.

The sudden change in treatment was rather surprising. Leonardo occupied himself in scanning the titles of the books in the shelves, and as such, did not notice any visitors until Pier Luigi spoke behind him.

"The rooms are to your liking?"

Leonardo whirled, startled. Pier Luigi was now dressed in a military jacket with the ducal crest, a dress uniform rather than his serviceable chain mail armor. "For a prison it is quite passable, your Grace," Leonardo said warily.

"I do apologize for your ill treatment on your journey to Ancona," Pier Luigi said, circling past him to look through one of the barred windows. "It was for your own safety, in case either yourself or your _cara_ decided to undergo any unfortunate attempts to escape a moving ship."

"I thank you for your… concern."

"There is no need for hostilities, Leonardo. It will merely make matters unnecessarily uncomfortable." Pier Luigi turned back to regard him, walking deliberately closer, until Leonardo found himself backing away instinctively. "Fear, fear and anger. Passion does highlight beauty, so exquisitely." Again with his snakelike speed, the Duke had pinned Leonardo up against the wall, wrists caught and pressed over his head by his uninjured hand. A knee forced itself between his legs despite his indignant gasp, and to Leonardo's astonishment a kiss was pressed hard against his lips.

Instinctively, he _bit, _and the Duke reared back, sucking thoughtfully on a mauled lip, merely amused, reaching stiffly for his tunic with his left hand; then he frowned, jerked aside, and grabbed Rosa's wrist with his right before the heavy book descended on his neck. Dressed only in a towel, Rosa snarled, aiming a kick for the apex of the Duke's legs, but all untroubled, Pier Luigi released her hand, stepped neatly out of the way, and backhanded her heavily across the cheeks.

Leonardo caught Rosa quickly as she stumbled back, clutching at her jaw and cursing Pier Luigi's ancestry creatively, if indistinctly.

"Perhaps later," Pier Luigi said, blowing Leonardo a mocking kiss, then inclining his head at Rosa and exiting the room.

"… _troia lurida fottuta_… _Dio mio,_ Leonardo, when I think you cannot possibly get into any _more_ trouble, you prove me wrong immediately," Rosa rubbed at her jaw, wincing as she straightened, stalking towards the washing facility. "There are no acceptable clothes. Did they give you spares?"

"Spares? Ah… yes, in the cabinet, with yours."

"I will bind myself, and take one of your tunics and put a sash over a pair of breeches to hold that in place. It will look ridiculous but I _refuse_ to wear this lacy _merde_ that they have picked out for me." Eventually, the time punctuated with muttered curses, Rosa re-emerged, in similar clothing to Leonardo, though the tunic kept slipping over one of her shoulders. The breeches were a little too long, and she had folded them into thick cuffs over her sandals.

"And why is it each time _you_ are the one in trouble, _I_ am the one who gets hurt?"

"_Mi dispiace, mi dispiace_," Leonardo said soothingly, still stunned, his skin crawling, trying to suppress the instinctive urge to wash out his mouth and the lingering taste of copper. "And… and _grazie_ for your help."

"Next time if I am not there, wait till that _bastardo_ takes out his _pene_, and then you bite-"

"_Rosa!_"

"Well, that is the best way to do it. He might even bleed to death and die," Rosa said tartly, and then she frowned as she studied his face. "Do you need to sit down?"

"I wish I had your strength," Leonardo said humbly, as Rosa tugged him over to a chair and settled him down on it, patting his shoulder and looking around for water.

"No water! _Vaffanculo, _they are all _barbarians_," Rosa sprawled down on another chair. "I suppose we could use the furniture and block up the door."

"And then we starve?"

"Would you rather that this Borgia_ bastardo_ comes by every night for you?"

"I… I…"

Rosa nibbled at her lower lip, suddenly hesitant, then she exhaled loudly and pressed his left hand against her cheek, her tone kinder. "Leonardo. It is not hopeless. The next time I will be more prepared. If he tries this again, I swear I will kill him."

"I have to keep relying on others," Leonardo said miserably. "I feel useless."

"Oh, and what was that firework? A useless firework?"

"Ezio and the others were already on the grounds when the firework was set off, or at least they were near it, for him to have scaled the tower so quickly. It was not _that_ useful."

"And how would they have known which tower to look at?" Rosa retorted. "You have your strengths and the rest of us have ours. If there is a way to escape, you will think of it."

"I do not deserve your faith."

"Well, you have it anyway," Rosa said unmercifully, then she started to her feet, her eyes narrowing, as the door opened.

Instead of Pier Luigi, however, it was a servant, a stooped, man, heavily hooded and cloaked, his back seemingly deformed and awry under his clothes, walking slowly as though in age, a tray of fruit and water in one hand and a broom in another. Guards peered at them watchfully through the door, and then closed it behind the servant, even as he shuffled towards them and set the fruit on the table beside their chairs.

"I suppose I will think of something," Leonardo said doubtfully, and then he realized that Rosa was staring at the servant. "Rosa, I do hope you do not intend to attack harmless innocents."

"This one," Rosa said softly, tightly, "Is hardly harmless, and hardly an innocent."

"And you, dear girl, have grown into just as difficult a young woman as you were as a child," the servant replied mildly, in flawless Italian, straightening and pulling back his hood only enough to reveal a severe, lined face and startling violet-purple eyes. The hood was pulled back, and the man stooped again, beginning to sweep the room.

"You _know_ him?" Leonardo said, incredulous.

"The last _I_ saw of him, Antonio said, _La Volpe_ only has cares in Firenze," Rosa said, suspicious.

"_La Volpe_ has cares everywhere, girl," the servant retorted, conscientiously sweeping behind the corners of the shelves. "_La Volpe_ has many cares in particular about the Borgia Templars, especially when word comes to _La Volpe's _ears that they have found the Grail and its bearer."

Leonardo groaned, putting his head in his hands. "This will be somewhat awkward to explain."

[tbc… I've ordered the AC2: Renaissance book, but it's yet to arrive. Therefore, Rosa's 'history' in this fic is not canon. Also, this fic's Leonardo is also slightly AU – the actual Leonardo da Vinci had a proper household, with companions, and did not live alone. It seems from the book that ACII's Leonardo also has assistants, and Salai stayed in his household for quite a while (and was bequeathed the Mona Lisa), but his game!workshop always seemed so empty to me _.]


	9. The Second World 8

The Second World

Chapter 8

I

"So much groundwork, all to waste," _La Volpe_ said, aggrieved, though he continued to sweep the room in meticulous circles. "I suppose Firenze awaits."

"Wait," Rosa frowned. "What about us?"

"What about you, girl?"

"Are you not going to _help_ us?"

_La Volpe_ paused, actually glancing up at them briefly, then shaking his head slowly and continuing to sweep. "And why should I break cover for _you_, girl? If neither of you are the bearer then I have no further interest in you or this miserable little town."

"_I'll give you breaking cover-_"

Leonardo put a hand quickly on Rosa's shoulder, shushing her and shooting a quick glance at the door. Rosa settled with a huff, though her glare was venomous. "Or, if you could just help us send word, sir," Leonardo asked, ingratiating, "That would be very much appreciated."

"Send word to who, pray tell?" _La Volpe_ began to dust around the mantelpiece. "The Medici have no power here, Leonardo."

"Antonio? You know Antonio."

"And what can Antonio do from Venezia, pray tell?"

"No doubt he is on his way," Rosa snapped.

"Oh, and if he is on his way, how do I send word to a moving target, pray tell?" _La Volpe_ shook his head slowly, taking a cloth from his sleeve and proceeding to wipe down the picture frames. "Young people, always so rash and impulsive. Look what your hasty actions have caused you. You are imprisoned far from home and have wasted _La Volpe's_ time, which, I can tell you, is quite a remarkable feat."

"_Scusa_… Rosa, what are you doing?"

"Let go of me, Leonardo! I am going to wring the neck of this _bastardo_!" Rosa jerked ineffectively at Leonardo's grip on her wrist. "You… you are heartless!"

"Yours are but two lives in a weave of many," _La Volpe_ retorted, unfazed, starting on another portrait. "When you have lived as long as I, two lives matter little in the greater tapestry. At least the young man has been instilled with a _certain_ amount of civility."

"Are you not Antonio's friend?" Rosa demanded.

"Antonio is not a friend but a business associate. One could say that he is a rival… if I could be said to have rivals," _La Volpe_ mused, without any hint of modesty or pride, sweeping the dust out towards the balcony in practiced cycles. "I wish him well, but people like he – and all of you – come and go."

Rosa growled, glaring at Leonardo, who refused to let go. "Rosa, calm down," he said, as reassuringly as he could. "It does not matter. Ezio will come."

"Hah! He will be here when we are already on the way to Roma!"

"Ezio?" It took a moment for Leonardo to realize that the rhythmic sound of sweeping had paused. "What do you know of Ezio?"

"Why is 'Ezio' the magic word?" Rosa glowered. "_La Volpe, _this _bastardo_ preventing me from giving you a beating is his-"

"_Friend_," Leonardo cut in quickly. He did not know _La Volpe_, after all, and the man was hardly friendly. Still, the purple-eyed man straightened again to his full height once out of view of the balcony, looking thoughtful.

"Leonardo da Vinci," _La Volpe_ murmured, scratching absently at his chin, rolling the name in his mouth as though hearing it for the first time. "Some time ago I heard that a flying demon had murdered Emilio Barbarigo."

"Ah… I had constructed a… a well, I suppose you cannot call it a machine, it is more like a giant kite, for gliding."

"The hidden blades of the Auditore and the Machiavelli?"

"A rather simple spring mechanism-"

"I _suppose_," _La Volpe_ said heavily, reluctantly reaching a decision, "That I could _try_ to use my _limited_ resources where I can spare them to provide _some_ assistance."

"But you said that you could not contact anyone," Rosa blinked, a little startled by the sudden change in heart.

"If it is _truly_ necessary, I have my ways." _La Volpe_ seemed pained at the very thought of doing so. "I will think on this. In the meantime, I did have several plans in place for the potential eventuality that I could not reach the bearer before the arrival of Rodrigo Borgia. I will set them in motion. His arrival should be delayed, and you will be in Ancona longer. Long enough for your friends to catch up with you, perhaps."

"Ah… _grazie_," Leonardo said doubtfully, remembering Pier Luigi's visit with all too much clarity.

"Such a waste of perfectly good poison." The 'servant' padded over to their table, all silent grace now rather than an old man's shuffling walk, and proceeded to make the oranges in the fruit bowl disappear up his sleeve.

Rosa's hand froze en route to her mouth, an apple in her palm. "_Poison?_"

"Do not worry, girl. It was just the oranges."

Rosa offered him a weak smile and a rude gesture and put the apple back in the bowl. "There is nothing else you can do? Lend me a dagger, perhaps?"

"And where would the guards think you had taken it from? Out of thin air?" _La Volpe _stooped again, shuffling back towards the door. "I will have to think about this particular extension to my pointless excursion. _Addio_."

Rosa muttered something rude if unintelligible under her breath, as the guards let the 'servant' out of their chambers.

II

The days passed in an uninterrupted crawl. Something had apparently called away Pier Luigi's attention – perhaps at _La Volpe's_ intervention – and they were left alone. The servant who fed them and cleaned their quarters was different, and Rosa grew restless and short of temper, even as her wounds healed slowly, convinced that _La Volpe_ had simply decided that they were too much trouble.

They shared the single bed, Leonardo uneasy at the very thought and Rosa amused at his sense of propriety; _she_ slept like a man, in a slouch of ungainly limbs and snoring fit to wake the world. Often Leonardo found himself reading instead, by candlelight, until weariness drove him to slumber over the cushions. The books were mostly religious texts, but at least they were _some_ distraction.

He was beginning to doze, attempting to follow the circular reasoning of a papal text, lulled by Rosa's snoring, when a gloved hand pressed tightly over his mouth. Instantly, Leonardo twisted back, in instinctive panic, grabbing wildly for the stranger's wrist. The chair tipped backwards, ungainly, and he, his assailant and furniture fell with a heavy _thud_ on the ground in a sprawl of limbs and wood and scent, a familiar scent of leather and metal and gunpowder.

Ezio glared at him even as the palm over his mouth continued to forestall his impulse to shout in disbelieving joy. "_Cazzo_, Leonardo! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Ezio!" Leonardo whispered back, twisting to embrace Ezio tightly, burying his face in his beloved's neck, his heart beating so quickly that it felt like it would burst. "_Ezio_. I dream… I must be dreaming."

"Thankfully, the guards seem to be _cretini_," Ezio spared the door a last glance before returning the embrace, stroking his ungloved hand through Leonardo's hair, twisting curls between his fingers, warm lips pressing over his forehead. "No dream, _caro mio. _Are you hurt?"

"No. Rosa is hurt." Leonardo said, looking up towards the bed, where Rosa had somehow managed to sleep through the noise. "We should wake her!"

"In a moment," Ezio whispered, the kisses pressing down, over his eyes, gentle as a bird's wing, to his cheeks, his jaw, until Leonardo was twisting upwards with lips parted, silently begging for his lover's mouth. The dim glow from the torches in courtyard drew a warm shadow over the curve of Ezio's smirk, and Leonardo twisted up into chapped lips as they pressed against his, welcoming the assassin's questing tongue with a moan, Ezio's gauntlet curling tightly over the base of his neck, sharing one breath, one perfect moment.

"Could this not wait until we are all properly rescued?" Rosa asked tartly from the bed when they broke for air, Leonardo blindly nuzzling Ezio's throat, clutching at his collar, drowning, his breathing hitching and wordless in joy.

The grip at his neck curled up to card again through his hair, soothing and petting. Ezio's skin rumbled under his lips as the assassin chuckled softly. "What is wrong with a little early celebration, Rosa?"

"At least have the decency to do it in private," Rosa folded her arms, though her mock scowl kept quirking into a grin of sheer relief. "So, you took your time, _bastardo assassino_."

"And would have taken longer still, had not _La Volpe_ sent us word," Ezio said soberly, leaning down to brush his lips again over Leonardo's, licking at him playfully when the artist was unable to stifle an embarrassing whimper. "We had not expected the Templars to dock here. _Scusa_, Leonardo. I have made you wait so long."

"It is nothing," Leonardo said quickly, stroking Ezio's cheek, the assassin rubbing affectionately against his palm, catlike. On the bed, Rosa snorted.

"Oh, it is nothing! And why are you only apologizing to _Leonardo_?"

"And you too, as well, Rosa."

"_Porca puttana_, stop mauling him and get us out of here!" Rosa bounced a pillow off Ezio's head, "Before that _bastardo_ Borgia comes back!"

Leonardo tensed instantly at the mention, at the _memory_, the outraged sense of helplessness, pressing his cheek against Ezio's shoulder, instead, breathing deep. The scent soothed him, his breathing beginning to even, then he blinked as Ezio tilted up his chin. In the dim light, Ezio's dark eyes gleamed, first unreadable, and then narrowing with fury as realization dawned, so abruptly that Leonardo nearly pulled back.

"Rosa," Ezio said, with deceptive calm, "What did Pier Luigi do to Leonardo?"

"It was nothing. We… we should go," Leonardo said quickly, trying to scramble to his feet. Ezio's fingers tightened around his waist, holding him in place. "Ezio, please."

"I am asking Rosa, Leonardo, not you."

Rosa glanced between Ezio and Leonardo, biting at her lower lip. "Are you going to do something stupid like leave us here while you go Templar hunting? Because if you are, I-"

The doors swung open, violently enough that the heavy wood crashed against the walls and caused a handful of books to jerk out of the shelves. Pier Luigi marched in, flanked by heavily armed guards, armed with warhammers and spears. The Duke blinked at Ezio, surprised, his gaze sweeping over their clearly intimate embrace, his expression first astonished, then amused; then he smiled, the curve of his lips thin and cruel.

"_Scusa_ for the misunderstanding, Leonardo. So my instinct was correct. You did seem used to a man's touch."

Ezio let him go gently, getting slowly to his feet and pulling his hood back down over his eyes, rolling his shoulders. When he spoke, his voice was flat, quiet. "Pier Luigi."

"And you must be the Auditore _assassino_ that my father always speaks about. I was expecting an intruder, with the report from the harbor that an Italian ship had come to dock, but I did not think it would be you." Pier Luigi drew his rapier from his belt, the tip pointed at the paneled ground. "It is most fortuitous. I had thought to catch a mouse; instead, I have the wolf."

"Fortuitous for you and for me," Ezio too, drew his sword, the slow rasp of steel a metallic snarl in the dark. "Rosa, take Leonardo and lock yourselves in the room behind you."

"I want to help you," Leonardo too scrambled to his feet, determined, but Rosa was already at his side, tugging him back.

"You will only be in his way."

Dubiously, Leonardo allowed himself to be dragged only to the doorway of the washing facilities, then he stubbornly planted his heels. He had to see this, either way; he could not _hide_, not when Ezio was about to face such an opponent. Rosa muttered darkly as her tugging became ineffective, and then she sighed, though she did not let him go.

Pier Luigi and Ezio were circling each other now, the guards waiting watchfully at the far end, apparently at the Duke's behest, breathless, two hunters waiting for an opportunity, a weakness, the night silent but for the creak and slithering clink of the Duke's armor.

When the Duke spoke, Leonardo actually flinched, startled by the sudden sound. "How old are you, _assassino_?"

"Old enough to kill you," Ezio answered, the flint in his tone like nothing Leonardo had heard, the dark promise chilling him. His fists were curling, and he noticed this only when Rosa scratched at his wrist, her eyes _knowing_, almost sad. It seemed as though she would comment, but the ring of metal on metal snapped her attention back to the duel.

Leonardo looked back in time for Ezio and the Duke to leap away from each other, circling again. Neither seemed the worse for wear.

"The same teacher as that other _assassino_ child," the Duke observed, his blade dipping to his left, then back, a slow pendulum of steel, "He was not much of a challenge."

"I am not he," Ezio returned, his blade still and silent. The assassin abruptly darted forward, his blade seeking the Duke's shoulder, twisting into a downswing to parry as Pier Luigi stepped out of the way, blade against blade, locking for a moment, then Pier Luigi smirked, stamping hard on Ezio's boot, while shoving him roughly back, and as the assassin stumbled, he brought the pommel of his blade down sharply over Ezio's wrist.

The blade dropped with a clatter and a snarling curse, Leonardo's heart stopping as Pier Luigi _swung_ – his sword shearing over and up against a hastily drawn dagger, even as Ezio shook the numbed fingers of his right hand, his teeth bared. They sprang back again, away, and contemptuously, Pier Luigi kicked the sword away to a corner.

"You are better," Pier Luigi acknowledged, as Ezio transferred his dagger back to his right hand, "But you are no Borgia. We learn the blade once we can wield it, wary of treachery from all sides, particularly from our own family. Tell me where you _assassini_ took the Grail, and I may spare your life."

"What Grail?" Ezio frowned, watching Pier Luigi's hands.

"The one that belonged to Leonardo."

"What are you talking about?"

"Do not feign stupidity, boy. The Grail that allows him to paint, invent, study, to play music and philosophize as he does, where is it?"

"Wait," Ezio said slowly, actually pausing to stare. "You Templars kidnapped Leonardo because you think he has the _Grail_?"

"Because he can _wield_ the Grail," Pier Luigi corrected coldly. "Its wielders are rare. As you would know, _assassino_."

"Leonardo, what is he talking about?" Ezio asked, nonplussed.

"I, ah, the Duke was trying to insinuate that I possessed some sort of magic treasure," Leonardo said, a little abashed, blushing, "Since he was about to kill Rosa if I did not tell him what it looked like, I told him it was a cup. _Scusa, _Ezio,I had _no_ idea that he would drag us all the way to _Ancona_."

"We are going to have to talk later about this," Ezio said dryly. "There, you have your answer, Pier Luigi."

"Then," The Duke said, in a growl, "At least allow me to present your hide to my father when he arrives."

The attack was sudden, in a flurry of whirling steel; a gash stitched a red line over Ezio's cheek, a gouge opened over the ducal sleeve to reveal a bright mouth of chainmail. With the dagger, Ezio was faster, but he was still on the defensive, barely managing to keep up. The blade sheared through his cape, tearing a jagged rip, slashed down against a hastily upraised bracer, hard enough that Ezio blanched and winced. His left hand flashed upwards and out, the hidden blade flicking free, but Pier Luigi grabbed it instead, over the spring mechanism, wrenched up Ezio's arm, and brought the hilt of his blade up against his elbow joint with merciless accuracy.

Ezio only sucked in a harsh gasp as his arm snapped, the dagger streaking up for Pier Luigi's throat, only to skitter off an upraised gauntlet. Pier Luigi let him go, circling back, his thin smile elaborate enough of his intentions. The Templar was toying with Ezio, with a weaker opponent, and Leonardo was frozen, disbelieving in his dull horror.

"I suppose this revelation has its advantages," the Duke mused, flicking his eyes over to Leonardo, smirking as Leonardo quickly looked away. "If Leonardo was indeed the bearer he would have had to be released into my father's custody. If he was lying as you say… then I would be free to retain him for my personal… entertainment."

"I will see you dead first, _bastardo_," Ezio hissed, behind teeth gritted in pain.

"Or I, you." The Duke struck, with a heavy, downward swing that Ezio barely managed to evade, his dagger opening a gash as he danced away against Pier Luigi's flank, again skittering over chainmail. The Duke, however, seemed to have been waiting for this all along; his boot connected with Ezio's knee, sending the assassin sprawling, and then he stamped down on Ezio's abdomen with his mailed heel.

"Ezio!" Leonardo cried out, as Ezio arched and coughed, his lips bloody, Pier Luigi's blade at his throat. "No… _please_, your Grace!"

"You ask for mercy, Leonardo?" Pier Luigi asked, amused.

"Stay out of this, Leonardo," Ezio said thickly, his eyes fixed on Pier Luigi's sword.

"I am _begging_ you, your Grace," Leonardo ignored him, his voice urgent. "_Please_. A life for a life. I will go with you."

"Leonardo," Rosa's nails curled into his elbow. "I will not _let you_."

"I will kill myself first," Ezio agreed, in a hoarse snarl. The Duke smirked, raising his blade, then he twisted, hissing in sudden pain.

One of the heavily armored guards had just sunk a stiletto into Pier Luigi's back; only the Duke's quick action had prevented it from piercing his heart. As it was, the Duke spat blood on the floor, stumbling away, even as the guards shouted in confusion and raised their weapons. Through the visor in the helmet of the rogue guard was the brief, faint gleam of purple eyes.

"What…?" Ezio gasped, as _La Volpe _stooped to pull him to his feet.

"You youngsters are absolutely useless," _La Volpe_ sighed. "You could say I decided to protect my investment."

"And you could not have intervened _earlier_?" Rosa snapped.

"He was in no danger of expiring earlier." _La Volpe_ explained primly, then he sighed again, more heavily this time, as the Duke gestured for the guards to join the fray. "And I had so hoped that this could all be resolved quickly."

"He is trying to escape!" Rosa pointed, as the guards began to crowd them back from the door, Pier Luigi limping towards it.

"Ezio, your gift," _La Volpe_'s words were all the warning they had before the 'guard' tossed something at the ground. The room erupted in white smoke, Leonardo hastily covering his mouth, instinctively pulling Rosa back, blindly feeling out with his spare hand until they were in the washing facilities, the white smoke eddying behind them. In the room they had left, men screamed and shouted in confusion, blades ringing against armor, underscored by the wet sounds of metal meeting flesh, the choked gurgles of the dying.

When the smoke cleared, Leonardo and Rosa looked out of the facilities with some trepidation, to find _La Volpe _seated on the sole remaining chair, legs crossed as he wiped a stiletto clean. Around him, men lay dead or dying, and Ezio – and the Duke – were nowhere to be seen.

_La Volpe_ caught Leonardo by the elbow as he hurried past towards the door. "I would not," he murmured, purple eyes keen, but not unkind. "It is one thing to watch a man fight. It is another to watch him murder."

"I have seen him kill," Leonardo tried to tug himself free, and found _La Volpe_'s grip unmoving.

"That was not the word I used," _La Volpe_ said softly, holding his wrist a heartbeat longer before letting him go. Rosa met Leonardo's eyes, sober, but she moved to follow him as he ran for the door.

The hallway was empty; Leonardo hurried past tapestried walls to an intersecting corridor. Turning around the corner, he was just in time to see Ezio, stooped over Pier Luigi, the shadows from the torch behind them reducing the Duke's expression to the gleam of his bared teeth, as the assassin slowly and deliberately slit his throat.

Rosa tensed, beside him, her jaw set, as she flicked her gaze up to Ezio's face, then back down to the body at his feet, and wordless, she turned around and walked away, back towards _La Volpe_. Leonardo could not tell if her silence was grim satisfaction or condemnation, if his own mute sense of dissociation was judgment or accord.

He had his answer when Ezio turned to face him, the assassin's eyes hidden under his hood, his mouth set in a thin line. "I had thought myself above hatred that could not be absolved by taking a life."

"Murder absolves nothing." Leonardo found himself saying.

Ezio's lips twitched; he turned his uninjured palm upwards, towards Leonardo; it was bloody to the fingers, to the elbows; the arterial blood had stained his boots and his breeches. "You would have asked me to let him live? After what he has done?"

"What would killing him have solved? Hatred only begets further hatred. It does not end." Leonardo said wearily, and found that more than the dull, uncomfortable knot in his belly, more than the ebbing fear and the bile that had lingered in his throat at the death in the chambers behind him, he was _tired_.

"Some men deserve to die."

"And what would that resolve? Would killing Rodrigo Borgia return your family, Ezio? Must it always end with death?"

"All things end in death," Ezio shrugged, though he sounded a little uncertain, as Leonardo steeled himself and walked up towards him. In death, Pier Luigi's face was pinched in agony, pale and twisted. Leonardo stooped, closing the dead man's eyes gently, muttering a quick prayer for his soul. When he straightened, Ezio was staring at him oddly.

"You… forgive him?"

"He is dead," Leonardo pointed out. "Why hold a grudge against a corpse?"

"Were you I," Ezio said slowly, glancing down, "And if you had Rodrigo Borgia before your blade, would you walk away, then, knowing that he had caused the violation of your mother, the death of your father and brothers, the disgrace of your family's name?"

"I do not know the burden of pain as you do," Leonardo replied carefully. "Nor can I say-"

"I asked what you would do, Leonardo."

"I would not kill him." Leonardo held Ezio's eyes evenly, until the assassin let out a harsh breath and looked away. "Perhaps sometimes there is a necessity. But vengeance is not necessary. It has consumed so much of your life, Ezio. Let it go."

"I… I cannot." Ezio exhaled, in an angry rush. "I cannot. Perhaps what you say is right. You are a better man than I… but I cannot simply turn the other cheek!"

"That is for you alone to decide," Leonardo reached out gingerly, clasping Ezio's bloodied hand, squeezing it. "Let us go home."

"Now you have seen my world," Ezio did not move. "And yet you accept it?"

"Your world? No," Leonardo stepped close, nuzzling up Ezio's chin, knowing this to be true; Ezio's world of betrayal, of silent death and circles of greed, power and vengeance; that he could not accept. "But _you_? You I have long known for who you are, _caro mio_." Ezio leant down at the endearment, hesitant, until their lips sealed together in the flickering dark.

[tbc – this took a while because the original segment of II, being 5 pages long in itself, had _La Volpe_ rescue them instead of Ezio. However, this seemed sort of like a stealing the spotlight move, so in the interests of _La Volpe_ not being stabbed by Ezio it had to be rewritten. T_T… and then _La Volpe_ steals the spotlight again anyway! Sigh. The man is just that good a thief.

Oh, and just to be clear - "The Vitruvian Man" - i.e. Chapter 1 - is a timeline sort of story. People familiar with my FFXII work will know that I like to skip around time periods in my stories, which often are written in no chronological order. "The Second World" i.e. Chapters 2 - 9, take place between XII and XIII of Chapter 1, i.e.e after Marco's death and before Silvo's, around 1486-1488. Pier Luigi dies in real life in 1488 or so. XIV in Chapter 1 skips forward to when Ezio is 40+beard. XV is postgame. Hope that helps! I will continue to skip around now and then if I write any more arcs.]


	10. The Second World 9

[A/N: and here we twist history! O_o I am so sorry. Also, save for the first segment, this chapter is pretty much gratuitous, so people who aren't a fan of that are duly warned.]

The Second World

Epilogue

I

Monteriggioni was slowly rising to prominence as a busy outpost alongside the trade routes, and it seemed small, but prosperous, its citizens carefree and friendly. No archers adorned the rooftops, no wanted posters were splashed across the walls, no heralds cried doom at the corners. Leonardo found himself faintly unsettled, as Ezio took him on a short tour around the town, eventually leading him up towards his uncle's villa.

They passed a circle of _condotierri_, training under the watchful eye of an instructor; the mercenaries and their instructor were clearly familiar with Ezio, greeting him with nods and waves. Mario Auditore's private army, Leonardo surmised, as he followed Ezio into the foyer of the stately villa. Artwork adorned the walls, many from artists he instantly recognized. He was absorbed in admiring one when Ezio, finally losing patience, grabbed his wrist and all but dragged him into a room.

Claudia Auditore glanced up from a desk, while to the side, a man before a miniature scale model of Monteriggioni bowed to Ezio.

"Could you leave us for a moment?" Ezio asked, and the man – possibly a servant – nodded, exiting the room, even as Claudia arched an eyebrow at her brother, then looked him over, curious and frank, her eyes lingering on his face.

"Are you going to introduce me, Ezio?" Claudia asked then, pleased.

"Leonardo da Vinci, my sister, Claudia. Claudia, Leonardo."

"Leonardo da Vinci!" Claudia said, in startled recognition. "Oh… Mother once bought some of your paintings. Ezio salvaged them from our house. They are very beautiful, the pride of our little collection."

"_Grazie_, Lady Claudia, you are very kind to say so. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"And I you, sir," Claudia leant forward, her cheeks in her palms, her smile coquettish. "So my brother actually has handsome, charming friends."

Ezio rolled his eyes, even as Leonardo blushed. "Claudia, I am here to-"

"You owe me for all those times I had to introduce _my_ friends to _you_, brother," Claudia retorted tartly. "Do you know how embarrassing it was to me when you broke their hearts?"

"Claudia, Leonardo is my-"

"What, is he too good for your _sister_?"

"No, I did not say that, but he is my-"

"And then? _Dio mio_, is it not bad enough that our uncle imprisons me here and forces me to work, but _you_ also prevent me from meeting anyone new?"

"_Claudia_, I am-"

"And what? All of Italia knows that Leonardo da Vinci is not a married man."

"Will you _listen_-"

"No, _you_ listen, brother! While you are always out gallivanting having _fun_, I am _trapped_ in this _tiny_ town which does _not_ even have a decent tailor!"

"Look, I am just trying to say-"

"And do not think I never notice how you are _so_ quick to return here when the chest of florins is _almost_ full!"

Ezio growled, yanked Leonardo up against him, pulled his chin close and kissed him roughly on the lips, much to the artist's – and Claudia's – astonishment. When Ezio let go, with Leonardo bright red and staring down at his shoes, Claudia's mouth still open in a silent 'O' of shock, the assassin exhaled loudly.

"Understand?"

"I…" Claudia stared mutely between them for a moment. "Why did you not just _tell_ me?"

"_I was trying!_"

"There is no need to shout," Claudia said primly, "You could just have _told_ me and I would have said I was happy for you."

"Good! That is all I wanted to know!"

"I always felt you were in love with someone. You had that look," Claudia glared at her brother, "You could have told me _earlier_. You are my brother, Ezio, and I love you. I do not care who you love."

"_Grazie_, sister," Ezio said, a little mollified. "I was hoping you would understand. I need your help breaking it slowly to Mario."

"Why?"

"_You_ would understand. You are my sister and we have been close since we were children. _He_ would not understand."

"Well I do not know what he understands or does not understand seeing as he saw all of that while standing behind you," Claudia said tartly, her eyes darting above Ezio's shoulder.

Leonardo stared harder at his boots, even as Ezio's arm tightened around his waist. Perhaps if he stared hard enough, Leonardo felt, his cheeks burning, the ground would open and swallow him whole.

Arms crushed him against Ezio's frame, and Mario's voice boomed all too loudly next to his ear. "_Nipote!_ You keep too many secrets to yourself that should be shared, with family!"

"Well, I-"

"Your uncle does not care who you love either," Mario declared, the bear hug becoming crushingly tighter. "And Leonardo is a good man. If a useless student."

"_Grazie_, kind sir," Leonardo managed to gasp, slowly unable to breathe, stunned at the willing acceptance of Ezio's family, _gratified, _and so relieved that his knees began to feel weak.

"Uncle, we-"

"And so, we should have a celebration!"

"No, I-"

"Claudia! Come over here. We are having a family hug."

"But we-"

Claudia stared at them for a long, silent moment, then shook her head slowly and turned back to her book.

II

"And this is why I do not come home so often," Ezio huffed, as he led Leonardo through a narrow corridor and up a ladder after managing to extricate them from Mario on the pretext of exploring the villa. "I love all of my family, even Mario, but they can be difficult."

"That is usually the definition of 'family'," Leonardo said wryly. He was not close to his own, but of late, he felt little regret. The room he pulled himself up into was a small loft, with a single skylight. Paintings on easels adorned the room, and there was a desk and a chair against a wall, haphazard scrolls and maps piled in another corner over a disused, narrow cot of a bed. Beside him, Ezio closed the trapdoor that led up into the loft, shutting out the chatter of sound that echoed up from within the villa, servants and _condotierri_ and Mario's booming tones.

Leonardo peered at a painting, then another, and grimaced. They were portraits – of men Ezio had killed. He recognized the Pazzi, and some of the Barbarigo. "Did… did you paint these?"

"They are not very good," Ezio admitted, sliding his arms around Leonardo from behind, as though not noticing his aversion.

"You wanted to show me these?" Leonardo asked, a little weakly. Since the matter of the Duke of Gandia, the topic of Ezio's world had been a matter that they had skirted around, a wound best left scabbed and buried, or so Leonardo had thought.

And then they had shared… _something_, in Venezia, touched the forbidden, divine ecstasy between men, and Ezio had insisted that they journey to Monteriggioni. Leonardo had expected the… family revelation, but not _this_.

"You know who I am," Ezio replied quietly, as Leonardo scanned the portraits against the wall. There were only a few, and Pier Luigi's visage was prominently missing.

"There isn't…"

"I am not proud of any of these kills, but they were all necessary." Ezio pressed a kiss to the nape of Leonardo's neck. "The ones that are not… I do not paint." Another breath, the lips pressing lower, over his clothes, over his spine. "It gives me perspective. I think you are correct after all."

Awkwardly, Leonardo folded his hands over Ezio's arms, and gave voice to impulse. "After… after you deal with Rodrigo, what will you do?"

"Do?" Ezio asked, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Will you… will you always be an assassin?"

"Ah." Ezio chuckled, turning Leonardo gently around, to press his lips gently over Leonardo's, in a chaste kiss, his mouth curling into a grin. "Are you offering to have me as a kept man, Leonardo?"

"No, no, no," Leonardo flushed, even as Ezio laughed at his reaction. "I did not say that!"

"Pity, it was tempting," Ezio teased, the second kiss deeper now, his tongue flicking against Leonardo's teeth. "Lorenzo has suggested that I assume a consistent public persona when I am not on missions, one that he can introduce at Court, given that the Auditore are technically disgraced. He has made arrangements."

"At Court?"

"A persona that can _accompany_ you to Court," Ezio amended, with a sly wink, hands sliding down to pull Leonardo's hips firmly against his, "That can keep an eye on you, particularly if you decide to move to Milan. Perhaps after Rodridgo, I can edge into semi-retirement, if Lorenzo no longer needs me."

"Really?" Leonardo asked, disbelieving. "You would do that?"

"What is it but yet another disguise?" Ezio shrugged, kneading until Leonardo gasped, hands tightening on the assassin's shoulder and rubbing tentatively against him. "A Lombard aristocrat, Lorenzo suggested. Your new apprentice."

"And this apprentice's name?" Leonardo murmured, nipping at Ezio's chin, planting soft kisses down the column of his neck, catching the leather thong of his necklace and tugging teasingly.

"Mm. It has not yet been decided. Lorenzo will tell me."

"And this is what Lombard aristocrats do to their mentors?" Leonardo asked dryly, as Ezio walked them back carefully, until the edge of the desk pressed against his rump.

"You mean," Ezio purred, "Ravishing them against a desk until they plead for mercy?" At Leonardo's startled groan, the assassin guided him up onto the desk, pulling his legs around his waist. "Perhaps only the handsome ones."

Ezio, Leonardo noted, was an apt student of pleasure. Deft fingers worked at his belts and the catches in his tunics, shucking his clothes with ease even as they kissed, Leonardo fumbling as he tried to do the same to Ezio's complex armor, then trembling and clutching at Ezio's collar instead as the assassin palmed him through his loincloth.

"My mother once said that I should find a creative outlet," Ezio grinned, as he tugged off one of Leonardo's boots, and then the other with his free hand, all the while stroking Leonardo boldly through the thin cloth until the artist was arching back and writhing against the desk.

"An… an outlet?" Leonardo shivered as the chill air picked goosebumps up his thigh, as his breeches fell to the ground over Ezio's boots.

"Besides vaginas, she said."

"This was _very_ likely _not_ what she meant," Leonardo said dryly, hissing as Ezio nipped at the underside of his thigh, just below the knee, then pressing a kiss over the reddening mark. "_Ezio_."

"There is salve in the drawer," Ezio instructed, obligingly beginning to remove his own armor, efficiently at first, then slowing to a teasing pace once the assassin noticed that Leonardo had fumbled his reach for the drawer and was watching, hungry, _wanting_. Once stripped to his breeches, Leonardo sat up to pull Ezio close, their tongues tangling, flesh to flesh as callused hands drew slow, circling caresses up his spine, their moans in urgent concert. Ezio, Leonardo realized dimly, with some surprise, pressed between his thighs, was already hard.

The assassin pressed closer, grinding against him, licking a wet slick to his jaw and whispering, "I want to take you."

"Are… are you sure?" Leonardo asked, nuzzling Ezio's hair, breathing deep, and trying not to _hope_. "You are still not used to… it will not be like bedding a woman."

"_That_ much I can surmise," Ezio muttered, tentatively resting his hands on Leonardo's hips. "Instruct me. That should be easier."

"I…" Leonardo swallowed hard, even as lust made his member twitch in its confines. "Very well. On the condition that if at any point you want to stop, you must tell me."

"Stop worrying and get the salve, Leonardo," Ezio bent him down over the desk, marking his shoulder with stinging bites, then kissing over the marks when Leonardo moaned, strangled and breathless.

"I cannot concentrate," Leonardo protested, his fingers nerveless over Ezio's broad, scarred shoulders as the assassin pressed a similar path of bites and kisses down to a nipple, taking the nub of flesh between teeth and tongue and _stroking_, chuckling when Leonardo bucked insistently against his belly and _whined_. "_Ezio_."

"Do that again, Leonardo," Ezio purred, tugging at abused flesh playfully with his teeth. "Say my name like it is the only word you can remember."

"Ezio," Leonardo whispered, arching up into the assassin's mouth as lips curled around the other nipple. "_Please_."

"The drawer, Leonardo," Ezio smirked, stripping him of the loincloth with torturous care, and Leonardo blushed anew as the assassin took his swollen shaft in curious fingers, stroking along the vein, picking gently at the folds of skin under the reddened tip, whimpering as a callused thumb smeared the wet fluids leaking from the slit over the sensitive ridge.

"Uhh!" He bucked hopefully into Ezio's grasp, and the answering squeeze was too gentle to be anything but teasing.

"Sit up, Leonardo. Kiss me."

"I thought _I_ was meant to instruct you," Leonardo pointed out, though he obeyed, opening his mouth eagerly to meet Ezio's, shuddering as the assassin began to stroke him, the friction both exquisite and uncomfortable, dry skin against skin, and then Ezio drew back, spat on his palm, and _now_ Leonardo's hips jerked as he whined deep in his throat, an instrument under Ezio's clever fingers.

"You are still dressed," Leonardo complained, curling his thumbs into Ezio's breeches, as the assassin reached for the drawer himself. Ezio growled as Leonardo undid the laces and pulled the supple leather down over his hips, grinding forward as the artist tentatively pressed their flesh together, groaning at the heat, the musky scents, the wild hammer of Ezio's heart against his chest. Slick fingers drew a wet curl up Leonardo's shaft, making him hiss, then closed his hand urgently over their flesh, encouraging him to stroke them together even as teeth closed over his ear. Ezio's breathing hitched, shallow in his lust, as Leonardo drew his legs over the assassin's narrow waist.

"Now?" Ezio's voice was harsh, almost unrecognizable.

"One finger, inside," Leonardo struggled to keep the stroking slow, unhurried. "Slowly, please. It… has been a while."

Fingers traced slick, sloppy paths under his thighs, awkward, as Ezio pressed a finger against his entrance, taking his mouth as he pressed it in gently, inch by inch, stroking. When he crooked it, experimentally, Leonardo squirmed in Ezio's embrace, his groan stifled.

"Another," Leonardo breathed, forcing himself to relax as Ezio nuzzled his jaw, the stretch a faint burn as long fingers pressed deeper. "In and out. Spread… _aah!_ Slowly, _slowly_."

"_Scusa_," Ezio kissed at the corner of his lips, apologetic, then pressed his forehead against Leonardo's, their breathing merging in stutters and gasps as Leonardo adjusted, resting his free hand behind him on the desk, tentatively rocking himself against the digits. "Now?"

"A third," Leonardo choked, rearing up to kiss Ezio roughly as the assassin drew his ring finger over the pucker of muscle, welcoming the burn, his hand shaking over their flesh, barely able to do more as Ezio began to thrust his long fingers in and out of his rump, the assassin chuckling whenever he _whined_, already wanting more, knowing that he had to wait.

Finally, Leonardo whispered, "Now."

To his surprise, Ezio did not immediately draw back. "You want to do this on the desk?"

"I do not think we can make it to the cot," Leonardo whispered, with a wry smile; he had read Ezio true, as the assassin but nodded and kissed him fiercely, with equal _want_, slipping from his grasp. The tip bumped against his stretched opening, and Leonardo dug his fingers into the edge of the desk as Ezio breached him, slow, achingly slow, the stretch _burned_ despite the preparation. A hand was curled over his hip, the other around his back, his eyes stinging from the pain as Ezio buried himself to the hilt.

"Leonardo," Ezio said, concerned, but Leonardo locked his ankles tight over the assassin's lower back, holding him close, stroking his cheek as he blindly drew him close, a kiss, a gasp, and Ezio whispered, his name again, almost inaudible.

"_Ezio_," Leonardo echoed; his world spun, disoriented in his joy as they kissed again, deeper, desperate, drowning against each other. The hand at his hip crept to his neglected flesh, coaxing it back to ardor, and Leonardo, moaning, arms wrapped over Ezio's shoulders, gasped, "_Now_."

They rocked together against the desk, unhurried, Leonardo's fingers occupied in tracing and retracing memorized scars, skimming his thumbs over the ridges of old wounds, so drunk in Ezio's body that he barely heard the question.

"Does this get better for you?"

"Better?"

"I… ah, I asked Teodora. And Paola," Ezio ducked his head, actually embarrassed. "They said it should get better, but they would not elaborate."

Leonardo wasn't sure whether to feel amused or horrified. "You asked _Teodora_ and _Paola_?"

"Well," Ezio said defensively, "I thought they would know. Teodora did say it was 'the angle'. I am not entirely certain… that I understood her meaning."

The assassin sounded so serious that Leonardo stifled a laugh, breathless. "This… this is more than I would have hoped for already, Ezio."

"I want to give you more," Ezio retorted stubbornly, twisting against him to flick his tongue against Leonardo's ear, then freezing as the artist shivered and cried out. "Leonardo?"

"That," Leonardo gasped, digging his nails into Ezio's shoulders. "A…again, _that_."

Ezio frowned at him, and then, as realization dawned, he smiled slowly, almost predatory as he bent Leonardo down over the desk. The assassin's next thrust up into him made Leonardo buck, keening and clawing at Ezio's back; he recalled little after, cast asunder by pleasure and bucking helplessly against Ezio's pace, and then, too soon, he was shattering in Ezio's grasp, violently unraveling with a strangled shout. Ezio _growled_ in answer, liquid and primal, his back arching as he snapped his hips against Leonardo's, grinding his own ecstasy deep.

III

They lay against the rail of the balcony overlooking Monteriggioni, Leonardo's back against Ezio's chest, settled between the assassin's long legs and tucked under his chin, his hands resting on Ezio's thighs. Leonardo's eyes were half-lidded, drowsy and content in the afternoon sun.

"That time, after Ancona," Ezio said, just as Leonardo began to doze, "Rosa and Antonio took me aside."

Leonardo was too content for his instinct for verbal landmines to sound the alarm, honed from close association to Ezio. The sun was comfortably warm, and he ached pleasantly, loose-limbed and sated. "Mm."

"They told me about your concerns." Ezio had taken Leonardo's left hand, turning it upwards, tracing upon it with his right forefinger. "For someone so intelligent you can be so blind."

Leonardo's brain dug itself reluctantly out of its doze. "What?"

"I have loved you for a long time as well, Leonardo. It just never quite… registered, not in those words." Ezio murmured against his ear. "But it was always there, even before their prank with the 'antidote'. Even had that not happened, I think this would have been inevitable. So you need not be concerned, so much that you would put yourself at any sort of risk. You do not need to be involved in my world. I have always loved you as you were, as you are now."

"Ah," Leonardo managed, torn between exasperation at _yet_ another devious scheme from the thieves and a warm sense of gratification at Ezio's words. After a brief struggle, the latter won out, and Leonardo smiled to himself, his eyes straying down to their hands, finally recognising the pattern drawn over his palms.

Turning in Ezio's lap, Leonardo leant up to slant his lips over the assassin's mouth, in their shared breath the reiteration of the words of love written on his skin, echoed in the corners of his soul.

[finished – Second World. ;3 Thanks everyone for reading! RE: FFNet readers, if I do update any more Ezio x Leonardo stories, it will still be to this story for ease of updating.

Scene in III inspired from doubleleaf's gorgeous art on DA.

Thanks again for all the feedback and the help with languages. ;3]


End file.
